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AMERICAN 


L I T ERA  T URE. 


' 

- 


AMERICAN 


LITERATURE. 


A.B.,  JOHNS  HOPKINS  UNIVERSITY, 

PROFESSOR  OF  LITERATURE  IN  THE  PHILADELPHIA  CENTRAL  HIGH  SCHOOL 


PHILADELPHIA: 

Eldredge  & Brother, 

No.  17  North  Seventh  Street. 


;JV\\ 

a 


n 


■ 


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Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1889,  by 
ELDREDGE & BROTHER, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 
»o<>o* — — — 


FERGUSON  BROS.  & CO., 
PRINTERS,  PHI  LADA. 


WESTCOTT  A THOMSON, 
ELECTROTYPERS,  PHILADA. 


Some  distinguished  American  scholars  have  objected  to 
the  name  “American  Literature”  as  meaningless  and  mis- 
leading. There  would  indeed  seem  to  be  greater  propriety 
in  the  title  “ English  Literature  in  America,”  which  defines 
the  origin  and  relation  of  our  literature,  and  which  has  great 
merit,  too,  in  that  it  suggests  the  kindred  blood  that  unites 
two  great  nations,  and  that  makes  the  inhabitants  of  each 
common  possessors  of  a common  inheritance.  I have,  how- 
ever, thought  it  best  not  to  interfere  with  a name  that  has 
been  honored  by  generations  of  use,  and  which  now  re- 
ceives prompt  and  generous  recognition  from  the  scholars 
of  Europe. 

There  has  been  happily  awakened  in  very  recent  years 
a great  and  growing  interest  in  American  affairs,  and  par- 
ticularly in  the  history  and  significance  of  American  writ- 
ings. Many  excellent  works  have  contributed  to  the  com- 
plete understanding  of  this  literature.  Professor  Scherr 
in  Germany,  Professor  Nichol  in  England,  and  Professors 
Tyler  and  Richardson  in  America  have  published  skilful 
and  laborious  studies  of  our  literary  development,  which 
are  indispensable  to  the  scholar  and  invaluable  for  the 
reference  library,  but  which  are  too  critical  and  exhaust- 
ive for  school  use. 

In  the  present  work  I have  tried  to  make  a book  from 
which  teachers  can  teach,  and  from  which  students  cannot 
“ cram.”  Its  purpose  is  to  exhibit  the  process  of  American 
literature  as  an  evolution.  The  dependence  of  this  liter- 
ature upon  English  literature  at  successive  stages  of  its 
history  has  been  suggested,  and  the  growth  of  the  Amer- 

V 


Ti  n *^r\ 


VI 


PREFACE . 


ican  spirit  from  Colonial  polemics  and  Revolutionary  pol- 
itics to  its  flowering  in  the  group  of  classic  writers  who 
immediately  preceded  the  Civil  War  has  been  followed. 

American  literature  prior  to  1765,  for  obvious  reasons, 
has  no  place  in  elementary  instruction;  very  few  books  of 
Revolutionary  times  were  written  with  a real  literary  in- 
tention. These  two  periods  have  therefore  been  crowded 
into  a few  pages,  and  the  main  attention  of  the  book 
directed  to  the  interpretation  of  the  later  movement  of 
mind  in  New  England  by  which  literature  was  set  free 
from  the  chilling  influence  of  Puritanism. 

The  readings  from  authors  which  are  appended  to  the 
history  have  been  selected  as  characteristic  specimens  of 
the  best  or  most  significant  writers  of  the  country.  They 
have  been  chosen  also  as  having  a secondary  value  in  illus- 
trating or  emphasizing  the  historical  matter  in  the  fore  part 
of  the  book.  I have  not  been  deterred  from  inserting  a 
selection  because  it  was  old  and  familiar,  nor  have  I felt 
compelled  to  insert  one  because  “ no  hand-book  would  be 
complete  without  it.” 

Brevity  is  not  an  outworn  virtue  in  school-books.  The 
bridge  need  not  be  much  broader  than  the  flood,  and  even 
the  most  ambitious  of  our  schools  must  limit  the  time  it 
can  devote  to  the  English  language  and  literature,  and  of 
that  time  American  books  and  authors  must  take  their  mod- 
est share. 

I have  to  thank  Messrs.  Harper  & Bro.,  D.  Appleton  & 
Co.,  Mr.  Geo.  W.  Childs,  and  Mr.  E.  E.  Pratt  for  allowing 
me  to  use  some  of  their  copyrighted  material. 

The  selections  from  Emerson,  Thoreau,  Hawthorne, 
Whittier,  Longfellow,  Holmes,  and  Lowell  are  used  by 
permission  of,  and  by  arrangement  with,  Messrs.  Houghton, 
Mifflin  & Co. 


Philadelphia,  March,  1891. 


ALBEET  H.  SMYTH. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

The  Colonial  Period 9 

CHAPTER  II. 

The  Revolutionary  Period 24 

CHAPTER  III. 

The  New  York  Writers 39 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Awakening  of  New  England 62 

CHAPTER  V. 

Longfellow,  Holmes,  and  Lowell 101 

CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Historians 119 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe  and  Other  Southern  Poets  ...  127 

CHAPTER  VIII. 


From  Cooper  to  the  Civil  War 133 

CHAPTER  IX. 

After  the  Civil  War 144 

Readings 165 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


-o-o>Xo 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Colonial  Period. 

1607-1765. 

The  History  of  American  Literature  comprises  the 
literature  that  has  been  produced  in  America  in  the  Eng- 
lish language.  It  began  with  the  first  settlement  on  the 
Atlantic  coast,  and  is  actively  going  on  at  this  moment. 
Although  we  have  reason  to  be  proud  of  the  progress  of 
our  literature  in  the  past  and  are  hopeful  of  its  future,  we 
must  not  make  the  mistake  of  thinking  it  to  be  a new 
literature,  different  altogether  from  that  of  England.  Our 
literature  is  a continuation  of  English  literature  : it  is  Eng- 
lish literature  in  America.  It  should  never  be  forgotten 
that  our  prose  and  poetry  when  at  their  best  are  true  to 
the  great  traditions  of  English  thought  and  English  style. 

The  New  Continent. — The  great  work  of  American 
civilization  was  begun  in  Virginia  in  1607.  James  the 
' First  was  on  the  throne  of  England,  and  English  liter- 
ature was  at  its  height.  Shakespeare  was  still  living, 
and  Bacon  had  just  completed  the  first  sketch  of  his 
greatest  work,  The  Novum  Organum . American  literature 
was  therefore  fortunate  in  the  time  of  its  beginning.  The 

9 


10 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


language  came  over  just  when  it  was  richest  and  most 
flexible. 

The  thought  of  a vast  continent,  rich  and  fertile,  beyond 
the  ocean,  impressed  the  imagination  of  English  writers. 
They  waited  impatiently  to  hear  from  the  handful  of 
colonists  who,  by  royal  permission,  had  gone  to  explore 
and  to  plant  the  wilderness.  One  English  poet  at  this 
time  called  Virginia  “ Earth’s  only  Paradise,”  and  another, 
Michael  Drayton,  prophesied  the  birth  of  poetry  in  the 
new  land.  The  wreck  of  one  of  the  ships  of  the  early  ex- 
plorers suggested  to  Shakespeare  the  plot  of  The  Tempest. 

The  first  writings  in  the  new  continent  were  news-letters , 
hastily  composed,  and  telling  to  friends  at  home  the  strange 
features  and  necessary  labors  of  the  new  land. 

Our  First  Century  is  the  period  of  our  literary  depend- 
ence upon  England.  Our  earliest  poets  did  not  change 
their  style  because  they  had  changed  their  country,  but 
rather  clung  with  greater  affection  to  the  literary  habits 
in  which  they  had  been  educated.  What  Lowell  wittily 
said  of  a much  later  time  is  especially  true  of  our  first 
writers : 

“ They  stole  Englishmen’s  books  and  thought  Englishmen’s  thought, 

With  English  salt  on  her  tail  our  wild  eagle  was  caught.” 

American  literature  was  a sprout  from  the  great  parent- 
trunk  in  England,  and  it  was  detached  from  a particularly 
vigorous  portion  of  the  trunk. 

There  was  little  time  in  our  first  century  for  the  arts  of 
literature.  The  energies  of  the  settlers  were  required  to 
cut  down  the  forest,  to  cultivate  the  soil,  and  to  prepare 
defences  against  the  Indians.  To  obtain  food,  clothing, 
and  shelter,  to  build  the  homestead,  the  school-house, 
and  the  church,  engaged  all  the  efforts  and  all  the  time 
of  the  colonists.  They  were  on  the  edge  of  an  unexplored 
wilderness  full  of  mysterious  perils. 

Not  only  was  the  progress  of  literature  impossible  be- 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


11 


cause  of  the  severe  and  unceasing  toil  of  the  settlers,  but 
it  must  be  remembered  that  they  were  men  without  a 
country.  There  was  nothing  to  inspire  in  them  that  spirit 
of  national  pride  and  devotion  which  always  finds  expres- 
sion in  popular  literature. 

It  required  a hundred  years  of  unwritten  heroism  and 
industry  to  establish  the  people  securely  in  their  new 
home. 

The  Colonial  Period,  or  first  era  of  our  literary  his- 
tory, may  be  said  to  extend  from  1607,  the  date  of  the  first 
settlement  at  Jamestown,  Virginia,  to  1765.  The  latter 
date  marks  the  time  when  a great  change  came  over  the 
fortunes  of  the  English  people  in  America — when  those 
people,  aroused  to  resistance  to  the  foreign  authority  of 
Great  Britain,  and  inspired  by  the  passion  for  liberty,  were 
approaching  the  struggle  of  the  Revolution.  The  Revo- 
lution altered  the  current  of  men’s  thoughts  and  set  new 
subjects  before  the  minds  of  writers. 

Beginning  with  the  year  1607,  it  is  important  to  remem- 
ber the  group  of  English  colonies  planted  along  the  east- 
ern edge  of  the  continent  during  the  seventeenth  century. 
They  were,  in  chronological  order — Virginia,  Massachu- 
setts, New  Hampshire,  Maryland,  Connecticut,  Rhode 
Island,  North  Carolina,  New  York,  New  Jersey,  South 
Carolina,  Pennsylvania. 

There  were  remarkable  differences  between  these  colonies. 
They  represented  different  elements  of  society  and  of  cul- 
ture. Their  founders  came  hither  for  different  purposes, 
and  for  a century  the  colonies  held  little  intercourse  with 
each  other.  The  most  important  of  the  colonies  were  Vir- 
ginia and  Massachusetts.  They  are  the  sources  of  all  that 
is  best  and  strongest  in  American  history.  From  the  latter 
we  gather  almost  everything  that  is  valuable  in  our  colonial 
literature. 

The  writings* of  the  colonial  times,  or  from  1607  to  1765, 
have  for  us  only  an  historic  interest.  They  are  important 


12 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


so  far  as  they  illustrate  the  character  of  the  founders  of 
our  nation.  But  they  have  not,  in  themselves,  any  liter- 
ary interest  or  value.  They  were  not  written  either  to 
interest  or  amuse.  Their  authors  were  too  seriously  occu- 
pied with  the  actual  conquest  of  the  soil  and  the  forest, 
with  building  homes  and  repelling  the  dangers  of  the  wil- 
derness, to  give  time  to  the  arts  and  graces  of  literature. 

The  works  of  the  first  immigrant  authors,  therefore, 
whether  they  are  rude  descriptions  of  hardship  in  Virginia 
or  collections  of  tedious  New  England  sermons,  are  curious 
and  interesting  precisely  as  a broken  plate  that  came  over 
the  sea  in  the  Mayflower’s  cabin,  or  a battered  sword  worn 
by  the  side  of  some  valiant  Pilgrim  in  Plymouth,  and 
which  perchance  knocked  against  the  heels  of  Miles  Stand- 
ish  himself,  is  curious  and  interesting. 

The  Colonists  in  Virginia  were  chiefly  of  the  Royalist 
party  and  of  the  Church  of  England.  They  had  crossed 
the  ocean  to  repair  their  fortunes  with  the  gold  which  they 
imagined  must  abound  in  tha  New  W orld.  Unlike  the 
Puritans  of  Massachusetts,  they  had  no  quarrel  with  Eng- 
land, and  no  desire  nor  intention  to  found  a new  order  of 
society  here.  No  intensity  of  feeling  nor  high  resolves 
determined  them  to  seek  an  asylum  in  Virginia.  They 
therefore  did  not  identify  themselves  permanently  with 
the  interests  of  the  country;  and  the  writers  among  them, 
unlike  those  of  New  England,  in  most  cases  after  a brief 
sojourn  returned  to  Europe. 

For  several  reasons  the  Virginian  colony  was  not  favor- 
able to  the  growth  of  literature  and  culture. 

1.  The  people  of  New  England  settled  in  groups  of  fam- 
ilies forming  centres  of  rapidly-growing  towns  and  cities ; 
the  “town-meetings”  of  citizens  and  the  constant  inter- 
course of  neighbors  resulted  in  improvements  in  industry 
and  trade,  the  increase  of  schools  and  churches,  and  “ facil- 
ity in  the  interchange  of  books,  letters,  and  the  like.”  The 
people  of  Virginia  did  not  found  villages,  but  lived  distant 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


13 


from  each  other  on  large  estates.  No  clusters  of  houses 
were  to  be  seen.  In  Jamestown,  the  capital,  there  were 
only  eighteen  private  dwellings.  The  natural  result  was 
the  absence  of  all  co-operation  and  all  progress  in  trade, 
education,  and  civil  affairs.  The  planter,  grown  rich  by 
the  cultivation  of  tobacco,  surrounded  himself  with  his 
slaves  and  lived  a careless,  hospitable  life,  occupying  his 
leisure  with  the  English  sports  of  fox-hunting,  horse-racing, 
and  cock-fighting. 

2.  Another  serious  consequence  of  the  wide  separation 
of  the  settlers  in  Virginia  was  the  impediment  it  offered 
to  common  education.  Schools  were  rare,  and  indeed 
until  the  year  1688  “ no  mention  is  anywhere  made  in 
the  records  of  schools  or  of  any  provision  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  youth.” 

3.  Not  only  were  schools  discouraged,  but  evert  print- 
ing was  forbidden.  Sir  William  Berkeley,  governor  of  the 
colony,  said,  “ I thank  God  there  are  no  free  schools  nor 
printing;  and  I hope  we  shall  not  have  these  hundred 
years ; for  learning  has  brought  disobedience  and  heresy 
and  sects  into  the  world,  and  printing  has  divulged  them 
and  libels  against  the  best  government.  God  keep  us 
from  both !”  No  printing-press  was  set  up  permanently 
in  Virginia  until  1729. 

Literature  in  Virginia. — The  earliest  writings  of  Vir- 
ginia were  descriptions  of  the  new  and  strange  things  of 
the  country,  and  of  the  prosperity  or  mishaps  of  the  set- 
tlers, written  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  friends  in  England. 
These  writings,  or  “ news-letters,”  wTere,  in  every  instance, 
printed  in  England.  Mingled  with  them  were  certain 
other  more  scholarly  works,  such  as  the  translation  of 
Ovid’s  Metamorphoses , by  George  Sandys,  treasurer  of  the 
Virginian  colony  and  son  of  the  archbishop  of  York. 

Among  the  narratives  and  descriptions  of  the  country 
were  Good  News  from  Virginia , by  Alexander  Whitaker, 
published  in  London  in  1613 ; and  Leah  and  Rachel  (i.  e . 


14 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Virginia  and  Maryland),  by  John  Hammond,  published  in 
London  in  1656. 

Books  of  this  character  and  time  can  hardly  be  claimed 
for  our  literature.  Their  authors  were  Englishmen  who 
happened  to  be  visitors  to  Virginia,  but  who  printed  their 
books  in  England,  and  who,  in  almost  every  case,  returned 
thither. 

Captain  John  Smith  was  the  first  writer  to  send  home 
an  account  of  the  wilderness  into  which  he  had  journeyed 
and  in  which  so  many  adventures  befell  him.  His  first 
book  was  The  Tnie  Relation*  of  Virginia , published  in  Lon- 
don in  1608. 

The  Founders  of  New  England  landed  at  Plymouth  in 
December,  1620.  Within  twenty  years  the  population  of 
the  fifty  towns  of  New  England  numbered  twenty-one 
thousand  souls.  These  people  sought  a land  in  which  they 
might  be  free  to  think  and  to  worship  according  to  their 
own  conscience.  While  the  Virginians  were  laying  up 
treasure  upon  earth,  the  men  of  Massachusetts  Bay  and 
Plymouth  were  thinking  of  treasure  in  heaven. 

There  was  among  them  a number  of  scholarly  men.  A 
considerable  proportion  of  the  Pilgrims  were  college-bred. 
In  the  small  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay  there  were  not 
less  than  seventy  graduates  of  Cambridge  and  twenty  grad- 
uates of  Oxford. 

Great  importance  was  attached  to  education  in  the  new 
colony.  Before  1650  public  instruction  was  compulsory 
throughout  New  England.  The  founders  of  New  England, 
though  stern  in  their  piety,  were  book-lovers  and  filled  with 
the  enthusiasm  for  knowledge.  The  chief  trait  of  our  fore- 
fathers was  earnestness.  They  were  serious  in  all  things. 
Whatever  they  did  in  politics,  religion,  education,  or  in- 
dustry was  done  with  prayer  and  earnest  effort.  This  earn- 
estness made  their  lives  grave  and  often  cheerless.  Gayety 


* “ Relation  ” — that  is,  account  or  narrative. 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


15 


and  beauty  were  looked  upon  as  things  of  evil.  Their  re- 
ligion was  solemn  and  their  God  wrathful.  Their  devotion 
to  their  creed  and  confidence  in  their  faith  made  them  in- 
tolerant of  opposite  opinions.  They  persecuted  all  who  did 
not  believe  as  they  did.  They  drove  Roger  Williams  out 
into  the  wilderness  to  find  a home  in  Rhode  Island.  They 
tortured  old  women  whom  they  believed  to  be  witches,  and 
inflicted  the  severest  punishments  for  trifling  offences. 
There  was  no  charm  nor  beauty  in  their  austere  lives. 

The  American  Colleges. — In  1636  the  Puritans  of  Mas- 
sachusetts founded  a college  at  Cambridge.  It  was  called 
Harvard,  after  a young  Charlestown  clergyman  who  be- 
queathed to  the  “school  ” eight  hundred  pounds  in  money 
and  a considerable  library.  Nothing  could  illustrate  more 
powerfully  the  high  value  set  upon  learning  by  our  Puritan 
ancestors  than  this  establishment  of  a college  so  soon  after 
the  first  landing  on  these  shores.  The  intelligence  and 
the  public  spirit  of  the  founders  of  our  nation  and  of  our 
literature  are  alike  justified  by  it. 

1.  Harvard  College  was  intended  to  teach  the  classical 
languages  and  Hebrew,  and  to  train  learned  men  for  the 
service  of  the  Church.  It  soon  made  its  reputation  on  both 
sides  of  the  ocean.  It  has  been  the  school  of  the  largest 
number  of  American  writers.  Throughout  Colonial  and 
Revolutionary  times,  and  in  dark  days  of  our  history,  it 
has  impressed  upon  the  youth  of  the  country  how  excel- 
lent a thing  knowledge  is. 

2.  Before  the  Pilgrims  landed,  in  1619,  and  again  in 
1622,  the  Virginians  submitted  proposals  to  England  for 
the  establishment  of  a university.  That  it  might  be  safe 
from  the  ravages  of  Indians,  it  was  proposed  to  build  the 
college  on  an  island  in  the  Susquehanna  River.  But  no 
institution  of  learning  was  actually  established  in  Virginia 
until  the  close  of  the  century.  Then,  in  1693,  the  College 
of  William  and  Mary  was  founded. 

It  is  a significant  fact  that  the  first  and  last  battle-fields  of 


16 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  Revolution  were  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  these 
two  colleges  of  Massachusetts  and  Virginia.  There,  where 
our  patriots,  soldiers,  and  statesmen  had  been  educated, 
the  war  began  and  ended.  It  began  on  Bunker  Hill,  and 
Cornwallis  surrendered  in  the  vicinity  of  Williamsburg,  the 
seat  of  the  Virginian  college. 

Among  the  distinguished  students  of  William  and  Mary 
were  Thomas  Jefferson,  Peyton  Randolph,  President  of 
the  Continental  Congress  of  1774,  President  James  Mon- 
roe, Judge  Blair  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  several  of  the 
governors  of  Virginia  and  Maryland. 

3.  In  1700,  Yale  College  was  founded  at  New  Haven, 
Connecticut,  and  from  it,  in  the  eighteenth  century,  came 
the  most  eminent  thinker  of  colonial  times,  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards. 

4.  The  College  of  New  Jersey  dates  from  1746;  Co- 
lumbia College  (New  York),  from  1754;  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania,  from  1755;  and  Brown  University 
(Rhode  Island),  from  1764. 

The  first  Printing-Press  was  set  up  at  Cambridge,  Mass., 
in  1639.  The  first  book  printed  on  it  was  the  Bay  Psalm- 
book (1640),  a collection  of  versified  psalms  of  the  most 
wretched  character.  It  was  partly  compiled  by  Bishop 
Eliot,  the  Apostle  to  the  Indians  and  translator  of  the  Bible 
into  the  Indian  tongue. 

The  Literature  of  New  England  was,  throughout  the 
Colonial  period,  of  a religious  character.  The  only  ques- 
tions of  general  interest  were  questions  of  theology.  The 
writers  of  books  and  pamphlets  were  men  who  had  fought 
for  their  religious  opinions.  They  had  exiled  themselves 
that  they  might  be  free  to  worship  God  according  to  the 
dictates  of  their  own  conscience.  Naturally,  the  first  pub- 
lications were  in  defence  of  their  creed.  Their  only  literary 
object  was  to  explain  divine  truth  as  they  perceived  it.  Re- 
ligious books  and  pamphlets  therefore  form  the  great  bulk 
of  the  publications  of  the  Colonial  period  of  Literature. 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


17 


b’or  instance,  between  the  years  1706  and  1718  “ all  the  pub- 
lications known  to  have  been  printed  in  America  number  at 
least  five  hundred  and  fifty.  Of  these  all  but  eighty-four 
were  on  religious  topics,  and  of  the  eighty-four,  forty-nine 
were  almanacs.” 

Besides  sermons,  religious  discourses,  pious  tracts,  etc., 
there  were  a few  historical  writings , or,  more  correctly,  diaries 
of  contemporary  events. 

William  Bradford  (1588-1657),  an  important  writer 
of  the  latter  class,  was  the  second  governor  of  Plymouth 
Colony.  He  held  that  office  almost  every  year  from  1621 
until  1657,  when  he  died.  His  principal  book,  and  the 
chief  historical  writing  of  early  New  England,  was  the  His- 
tory of  Plymouth  Plantation . It  was  left  unpublished.  The 
manuscript  passed  through  several  hands,  and  was  at  last 
placed  in  the  library  of  Old  South  Church,  Boston.  When 
the  British  occupied  Boston  the  library  was  plundered,  and 
Bradford’s  History  disappeared.  In  1855  it  was  found  in 
the  library  of  the  bishop  of  London. 

Other  Historical  Writers. — Of  equal  literary  worth 
with  Bradford’s  history,  and  of  perhaps  still  more  histori- 
cal value,  is  the  History  of  New  England  from  1630  to  1649, 
by  John  Winthrop  (1588-1649),  governor  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay. 

Thomas  Morton  (1575-1646),  an  adventurer,  vexed  the 
pious  people  of  Massachusetts  by  establishing  a boisterous 
crew  of  merry-makers  at  Mount  Wollaston,  now  Braintree, 
Mass.  This  settlement,  so  offensive  to  the  Puritans,  he 
called  “ Merry  Mount,”  and  there  he  raised  a May-pole  and 
instituted  the  gay  sports  of  Old  England.  Morton  was 
charged  with  teaching  Indians  the  use  of  fire-arms.  He 
was  arrested  by  Captain  Miles  Standish  and  sent  to  Eng- 
land. In  1637  he  published  The  New  England  Canaan , 
full  of  ridicule  of  the  Puritan  faith  and  manners.  He 
returned  to  Massachusetts,  and  was  imprisoned  for  his 
unpardonable  literary  “scandal.” 

2 


18 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Nathaniel  Ward  (1579-1652),  a minister  of  culture  and 
experience,  published  in  1647,  in  London,  one  of  the  most 
curious  books  written  in  the  colonies.  It  was  called  The 
Simple  Cobbler  of  Aggawam  (Essex).  It  was  a sharp  satire 
on  the  new  opinions  that  were  then  rife  in  both  Old  and 
New  England — a truly  vigorous  polemic  directed  against 
long  hair  and  female  frivolity.  All  these  books,  however, 
are  mere  literary  curiosities.  They  are  not  easily  found 
by  the  general  reader,  and  are  hard  enough  reading  when 
found.  They  are  far  more  important  in  that  they  contain 
legends  or  facts  that  have  been  built  up  by  more  modern 
authors  into  romances,  poems,  and  histories  of  enchanting 
interest.  Thus,  out  of  the  dull  materials  of  the  books 
just  mentioned  Motley  wrote  his  novel  Merry  Mount , and 
Hawthorne  his  May-pole  of  Merry  Mount;  Longfellow  his 
New  England  Tragedies , and  Whittier  his  John  Underhill 
and  the  Familist's  Hymn . 

Two  Colonial  Poets. — In  the  bleak  atmosphere  of 
Puritanism  flourished  two  writers  of  what,  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  passed  for  verse  among  the  people  of  New 
England.  They  were  Anne  Bradstreet  (1612-72)  and 
Michael  Wigglesworth  (1631-1715).  The  former  wrote  a 
dull  poem  to  which  she  gave  the  following  portentous  title : 
Several  Poems  compiled  with  great  Variety  of  Wit  and  Learn- 
ing, full  of  Delight , wherein  especially  is  contained  a Complete 
Discourse  and  Description  of  the  Four  Elements , Constitutions, 
Ages  of  Men , Seasons  of  the  Year , together  with  an  exact  Epitome 
of  the  Three  First  Monarchies , viz.,  the  Assyrian,  Persian , and 
Grecian , and  the  beginning  of  the  Roman  Commonwealth  to  the 
end  of  their  last  King ; ivith  divers  other  Pleasant  and  serious 
Poems , by  a Gentlewoman  of  New  England  {Boston,  1640). 
Wiggleswortli  wrote  the  Day  of  Doom,  a pitiful  and  pain- 
ful attempt  at  poetry.  It  is  a rhymed  version  of  the  Pu- 
ritan doctrine  of  future  punishment. 

Cotton  Mather  (1663-1728). — The  greatest  men  of 
America  during  the  colonial  period  were  Cotton  Mather, 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


19 


Jonathan  Edwards,  and  Benjamin  Franklin.  Mather 
was  an  industrious  writer.  He  was  the  author  of  more 
than  four  hundred  different  works.  He  was  one  of  a dis- 
tinguished family  of  clergymen  who  for  three  generations 
had  furnished  the  Puritan  pulpit  with  men  of  learning. 
He  was  born  in  Boston,  February  12,  1663,  and  entered 
Harvard  College  when  only  eleven  years  old.  He  gathered 
the  largest  collection  of  books  in  America,  and  became, 
without  doubt,  the  most  learned  man  in  the  colonies.  “ To 
preach  seventy  sermons  in  public,  forty  more  in  private, 
keep  thirty  vigils  and  sixty  fasts,  and  still  have  time  for 
persecuting  witches,  was  nothing  unusual  for  him  to  do  in 
a year.” 

His  most  celebrated  book  was  the  Magnalia  Christi  Amer- 
icana, or  “ great  things  done  by  Christ  for  the  American 
people.”  It  is  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  New  England 
from  1620. 

Jonathan  Edwards  (1703-58)  was  the  greatest  of  all 
New  England  thinkers.  More  than  that,  he  was  perhaps 
the  clearest  reasoner  America  has  yet  produced.  He  was 
born  in  East  Windsor,  Conn.,  in  1703,  was  graduated  at 
Yale  College  in  1720,  was  pastor  of  a church  at  Northamp- 
ton, Mass.,  from  1726  until  1750,  and  died  president  of 
Princeton  College  in  1758.  His  principal  book  is  entitled 
Inquiry  into  the  Freedom  of  the  Will  (1754.)  All  his  acute 
logic  was  employed  in  the  service  of  that  system  of  the- 
ology which  has  taken  its  name  from  John  Calvin. 

Benjamin  Franklin  (1706-90)  was  the  first  and  the 
only  man  of  letters  in  colonial  times  to  achieve  European 
renown.  He  brought  America  prominently  before  the 
minds  of  the  Old  World,  and  commanded  respect  for  his 
country  and  admiration  for  himself.  He  was  born  in  Bos- 
ton January  17,  1706.  His  father  was  a tallow-chandler, 
nnd  his  mother  a daughter  of  Peter  Folger,  who  in  his 
day  had  some  reputation  as  a writer.  Franklin  was  appren- 
ticed to  his  brother,  who  was  a printer,  but  ran  away  and 


20 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


went  to  Philadelphia  in  1723.  The  description  of  his  entry 
into  Philadelphia,  which  was  to  be  the  scene  of  his  busy 
labors  for  more  than  sixty  years,  forms  the  most  amusing 
portion  of  his  Autobiography. 

Among  all  the  great  men  in  our  history  who  have  risen 
from  humble  origin  to  great  fame  none  have  achieved 
greatness  in  so  many  ways  as  Benjamin  Franklin.  He  was 
a shrewd,  practical  man  of  the  world,  the  very  embodiment 
of  the  common  sense  of  the  country.  His  character  and 
career  are  far  enough  away  from  the  stern  religious  men 
we  have  been  considering.  Franklin’s  mind  was  attentive 
to  trifles,  his  philosophy  never  got  beyond  the  homely 
maxims  of  worldly  prudence,  and  yet  in  the  great  crisis  of 
the  Revolution  his  discernment  and  sagacity  proclaimed 
him  a statesman  of  equal  acumen  with  the  leaders  of 
European  thought. 

Franklin’s  enormous  versatility  is  the  feature  of  his  life ; 
he  was  fertile  and  successful  in  science,  diplomacy,  philan- 
thropy, and  literature. 

His  invention  of  the  stove  and  the  lightning-rod,  his 
papers  on  electricity  and  the  Gulf  Stream,  attest  the  service 
he  rendered  to  the  cause  of  science.  The  University  of  Ox- 
ford and  the  University  of  St.  Andrews  in  Scotland  recog- 
nized the  value  of  his  scientific  work  when  they  conferred 
upon  him  the  degree  of  doctor  of  philosophy. 

He  signed  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  the  Treaty 
of  Alliance,  the  Treaty  of  Peace,  and  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States. 

All  manner  of  public  reforms  were  suggested  by  him : he 
mended  and  cleaned  streets,  organized  the  police  and  fire 
departments,  reconstructed  the  postal  system,  and  founded 
hospitals.  The  Philadelphia  Library  is  his,  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania  was  started  by  him,  and  the  American 
Philosophical  Society  owes  to  him  its  origin. 

His  Literary  Career. — In  spite  of  the  multitude  of  his 
writings,  Franklin  is  not  an  important  literary  character. 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


21 


American  literature  in  his  time  had  not  yet  begun.  He 
had  no  ambition  for  literary  fame.  His  language  was  terse 
and  simple,  his  style  often  careless  and  in  bad  taste ; but 
there  was  no  affectation,  no  display  of  learning  nor  posing 
for  applause.  The  author  carried  the  simplicity  of  his  life 
into  his  writings.  Practical  sense  and  homely  wit  charac- 
terize all  his  subjects.  The  most  prominent,  and  by  very 
much  the  best-written  of  his  works,  are  the  Autobiography , 
Father  Abraham’s  Speech , and  Poor  Richard’s  Almanac . An 
almanac  in  those  days  was  an  indispensable  book  in  every 
household.  It  hung  by  the  fireplace  ready  for  consultation 
or  for  memoranda.  It  became  the  account-book  of  the  fam- 
ily; the  margins  of  its  pages  would  often  be  crowded  with 
labored  calculations  and  mnemonic  notes.  We  have  al- 
ready seen  that  in  the  first  twelve  years  of  Franklin’s  life 
forty-nine  of  the  eighty-four  non-religious  books  printed  in 
the  colonies  were  almanacs.  Their  information  was  upon 
the  crops,  the  weather,  and  the  roads.  In  1732,  Franklin 
published  the  masterpiece  among  almanacs.  It  was  the 
Poor  Richard  Almanac  just  quoted.  Its  characteristic  feat- 
ure was  its  crisp  proverbs  full  of  kitchen  wisdom,  the  duty 
of  industry,  and  the  making  of  money.  For  instance: 
“ God  helps  them  that  help  themselves;”  “ Keep  thy  shop, 
'and  thy  shop  will  keep  thee;”  “Early  to  bed  and  early 
to  rise  makes  a man  healthy,  wealthy,  and  wise ; ” “ Little 
strokes  fell  great  oaks ;”  “ Three  removes  are  as  bad  as  a 
fire;”  “ Fools  make  feasts,  and  wise  men  eat  them;”  “ It 
is  hard  for  an  empty  bag  to  stand  upright.” 

Franklin’s  Autobiography  has  always  been  a de- 
servedly popular  book.  No  more  uniformly  interesting 
and  successful  autobiography  was  ever  written.  Fifty  edi- 
tions of  it  in  this  country  alone  testify  to  the  popular  ap- 
preciation of  it.  It  is  a book  whose  fame  is  assured,  and 
as  a piece  of  literature  it  has  been  pronounced  equal  to  the 
permanently  interesting  and  popular  Robinson  Crusoe . The 
edition  by  John  Bigelow  is  the  only  one  which  retains 


22 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  old  spelling  and  gives  the  story  exactly  as  Franklin 
wrote  it. 

Franklin’s  practical  sayings  have  become  part  of  the 
wisdom  of  the  people,  and  are  everywhere  familiar.  His 
name,  like  that  of  Washington  Irving,  has  been  given  to 
towns,  boroughs,  streets,  societies,  and  corporations.  Gen- 
eral Washington  alone  among  Americans  is  so  intimately 
and  universally  known  by  all  classes  of  people. 

Newspapers. — The  first  newspaper  published  in  Amer- 
ca  was  Public  Occurrences , in  1690.  But  it  was  intended  to 
appear  monthly — was  therefore  more  of  a pamphlet  than  a 
paper — and  was  quickly  suppressed  by  the  General  Court. 

The  Boston  News-Letter,  the  second  newspaper  of  the  col- 
onies, was  first  printed  in  Boston  by  John  Campbell,  post- 
master of  the  town,  on  the  17th  of  April,  1704. 

In  1719  the  Boston  Gazette  was  established  by  the  new 
postmaster,  and  was  printed  by  James  Franklin.  One  day 
later  the  American  Weekly  Mercury  appeared  in  Phila- 
delphia. James  Franklin  himself  founded  the  fifth  news- 
paper, the  New  England  Courant , in  1721,  to  which  Benja- 
min Franklin  contributed  his  earliest  compositions.  Be- 
fore the  close  of  the  year  1765,  which  we  have  taken  as  the 
boundary  of  the  colonial  period,  there  had  been  established 
in  all  the  American  colonies  at  least  forty-three  news- 
papers, eleven  of  which  belonged  to  Massachusetts,  five  to 
Pennsylvania,  eight  to  New  York,  and  one  to  Virginia. 

The  First  Literary  Journal  was  founded  by  Franklin 
in  Philadelphia  in  1741.  It  was  called  The  General  Maga- 
zine and  Historical  Chronicle  for  all  the  British  Provinces  in 
America . It  lasted  but  six  months,  has  but  little  liter- 
ary value,  but  is  interesting  because,  with  Andrew  Brad- 
ford’s American  Magazine , published  at  the  same  time,  it 
marks  the  earliest  effort  to  establish  the  monthly  magazine 
or  literary  journal  in  America. 

Isolation  of  the  Colonies.— The  most  important  fact  to 
be  remembered  in  a study  of  the  first  period  of  our  history 


THE  COLONIAL  PERIOD. 


23 


* is  the  tendency  in  each  colony  to  isolation  from  its  neighbors. 
There  was  very  little  communication  between  the  colonies. 
Each  had  its  own  laws,  money,  and  social  customs.  Nat- 
urally, therefore,  the  Cavaliers  of  Virginia  continued  to 
think  and  write  in  a different  vein  from  the  Roundheads 
of  New  England,  and  the  Quakers  of  Pennsylvania  had 
nothing  in  common  with  either. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  Revolutionary  Period. 

1765-1809. 

The  New  Era. — About  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth 
century  certain  changes  were  manifested  in  the  character 
of  the  American  people.  New  subjects  were  thought  upon, 
and  the  old  Puritan  earnestness  was  directed  from  religion 
to  politics.  The  colonies  also  drew  closer  together,  and 
made  common  cause  against  foreign  injustice.  The  Revo- 
lutionary War  and  the  causes  which  led  to  it  created  a new 
interest  in  literature,  as  well  as  an  excitement  in  politics. 
It  is  hard  to  say  just  when  the  new  period  began.  The 
war-clouds  had  been  gathering  for  years  before  the  “ em- 
battled farmers  ” at  Concord  “ fired  the  shot  heard  round 
the  world.”  All  great  movements  in  history  progress 
slowly,  and  are  almost  imperceptible  in  their  earliest 
stages.  It  is  not  possible  to  say  on  what  day  spring  be- 
gins, nor  in  what  year  a new  epoch  in  history  commences. 
But  it  is  convenient  to  take  the  critical  year  1765,  in  which 
Patrick  Henry  denounced  the  Stamp  Act  as  subversive 
of  British  and  American  liberty,  and  in  which  the  first 
Colonial  Congress  met  in  New  York,  as  the  starting-point 
of  the  second  great  period  in  the  history  of  our  American 
writings.  It  was  not  until  the  end  of  this  period,  and 
until  well  on  in  the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, that  literature  began  to  be  cultivated  for  its  own 

24 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD . 


25 


feake,  and  fha,t  really  important  men  of  letters  arose  in 
this  country.  The  writings  of  ihe  Revolutionary  times 
are  chiefly  important  fron^  their  historical  character  and 
connections.  Few  of  tfrem  have  ai^y  considerable  literary 
value. 

The  character  of  the  colonial  perio'd  was  theological ; the 
character  of  the  Revolutionary  period  was  political.  The 
productions  of  the  colonial  period  were  theological  contro- 
versies; the  productions  of  the  Revolutionary  period  were 
political  pamphlets.  In  the  second  period,  therefore,  poli- 
tics replaced  polemics,  and  passion  took  the  place  of  argu- 
ment. Literature  gave  voice  to  vigorous  denunciation  of 
tyranny,  and  cherished  with  enthusiasm  the  love  of  lib- 
erty. All  the  forcible  public  documents  of  the  age  of  Rev- 
olution breathe  a spirit  of  self-reliance. 

New  France  or  New  England? — That  was  the  ques- 
tion upon  the  answer  to  which,  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
depended  the  destiny  of  America  and  the  existence  of  our 
literature.  Two  great  European  powers,  France  and  Eng- 
land, began  to  occupy  the  New  W orld  about  the  same  time, 
and  between  them  inevitably  arose  a struggle  for  the  pos- 
session of  this  continent.  In  1607,  England  successfully 
lodged  a handful  of  colonists  at  Jamestown ; in  1608, 
France  made  a successful  settlement  at  Quebec.  These 
two  nations  represented  different  historic  ideas  and  crossed 
the  ocean  for  different  purposes.  The  English  have  always 
been  a diligent  and  successful  colonizing  people.  Their 
object  in  America  was  to  colonize — to  build  cities,  to  estab- 
lish communities,  to  advance  trade  and  education.  The 
French  have  never  been  an  active  colonizing  people.  Their 
object  in  America  was  to  conquer — to  build  forts,  to  win 
converts  to  religion,  and  to  establish  an  empire. 

Throughout  the  North  and  North-west  the  daring  explor- 
ers, the  fearless  soldiers,  the  cultivated  leaders,  and  the 
enthusiastic  priests  of  France  extended  the  power  of  their 
country,  penetrated  the  wilderness,  adventured  on  the  great 


26 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


rivers  and  the  great  lakes,  and  opened  up  the  vast  unknown 
territory  of  a savage  country.  The  Valley  of  the  Missis- 
sippi they  named  Louisiana,  after  their  king,  Louis  XIV. 
They  founded  Mobile  (1702)  and  New  Orleans  (1714),  and 
connected  these  extreme  Southern  posts  with  remote 
Quebec  by  means  of  a great  chain  of  forts.  The  armed 
power  of  king  and  noble  began  then  to  menace  the  exist- 
ence of  the  English  colonies,  whose  isolated  settlements  lay, 
a narrow  fringe  of  civilization  between  the  wilderness  and 
the  deep  sea,  along  the  extreme  eastern  edge  of  the  conti- 
nent. The  fear  of  French  aggression  first  suggested  to  the 
minds  of  the  English  colonists  the  idea  of  union.  In  1722, 
and  again  in  1754,  plans  for  united  action  were  devised 
and  discussed.  In  the  latter  year  the  Albany  Plan  of 
Union  was  conceived,  which  was,  however,  rejected  by 
the  colonies. 

The  evolution  of  the  idea  of  confederation  or  union  was  the 
first  step  toward  national  history  and  national  literature. 

Had  France  and  her  savage  allies  been  successful  in  the 
French  and  Indian  wars,  all  freedom  of  thought  and  speech 
would  have  been  suppressed,  and  a despotic,  feudal  gov- 
ernment would  have  been  firmly  fastened  upon  America. 
The  triumph  of  England  meant  the  security  of  liberty, 
the  extension  of  commerce,  and  the  natural  development 
of  the  country. 

In  1759,  General  Wolfe  captured  Quebec.  The  question 
of  a century  and  a half  was  answered.  The  New  World 
was  New  England,  not  New  France.  “ The  gigantic  ambi- 
tion of  France,  striving  to  grasp  a continent,”  had  failed. 
The  Puritan  commonwealth,  vitalized  by  pure  ideas  of  lib- 
erty and  justice,  industrious  in  labor,  and  zealous  in  duty, 
was  free  to  plant,  to  trade,  to  build,  and  to  work  toward 
the  inauguration  of  a great  nation. 

First  Republican  Ideas. — The  idea  of  union  had  been 
born  in  the  struggle  with  France,  and  that  struggle  had 
also  educated  some  of  the  shrewd  minds  of  the  colonies  in 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD . 


27 


knowledge  of  affairs  of  state.  The  caprice  and  the  indif- 
ference of  the  home  government  had  developed  with  extra- 
ordinary efficiency  the  idea  of  self-reliance  in  the  colonists. 
The  meeting  at  Albany  to  devise  a plan  of  union  was  there- 
fore naturally  followed  in  eleven  years  (or  in  1765)  by  a 
much  more  important  convention  at  New  York,  the  first 
Colonial  Congress,  to  protest  against  the  Stamp  Act;  at 
which  the  ideas  of  union  and  of  self-reliance  or  independ- 
ence were  asserted  against  England  itself.  It  was  a deci- 
sive step,  and  the  Revolution  in  all  its  grim  earnestness 
was  not  far  off. 

The  Revolution. — The  story  of  the  Revolutionary  War 
belongs  to  history,  not  to  literature.  It  was  attended  by  a 
certain  amount  of  excited  debate  and  impassioned  decla- 
mation, and  it  left  the  newborn  nation  so  exhausted  by  the 
eight  years’  struggle  that  twenty-six  years  elapsed  after  its 
close  before  the  first  American  man  of  letters,  Washington 
Irving,  appeared  with  an  American  book.  When,  however, 
the  tumult  of  the  Revolution  subsided,  certain  definite 
political  ideas  had  gained  national  expression,  and  the 
various  voices  of  the  original  colonies,  of  Cavalier  and 
Puritan,  Quaker  and  Huguenot  and  Catholic,  had  com- 
bined in  one  unmistakable  accent. 

Our  political  literature  of  the  period  began  with  the  co- 
pious and  splendid  speeches  of  the  great  orators,  and  ended 
with  the  judicial  arguments  of  the  formulators  of  the  Con- 
stitution. The  period  was  not  without  its  poetry,  its  sat- 
ire, and  its  wit,  but  all  its  literary  products  closely  followed 
the  style  of  English  works. 

The  Orators. — Periods  of  revolution  are  always  pro- 
ductive of  persuasive  orators.  The  French  Revolution  was 
represented  by  a host  of  brilliant  speakers,  and  the  first 
fervent  utterances  of  liberty  in  this  country  came  from  a 
group  of  eloquent  orators  in  both  the  North  and  the  South. 
Prominent  among  them  were  Samuel  Adams,  (1722-1803); 
James  Otis  (1725-83),  Josiah  Quincy  (1744-75),  and  Pat- 


28 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


rick  Henry  (1736-99).  The  animated  themes  of  the  clos- 
ing years  of  the  eighteenth  century  were  discussed  with 
force  and  fiery  passion  by  these  men.  The  effect  of  their 
addresses  was  intense,  but  more  from  the  earnestness  and 
power  with  which  they  were  delivered  than  from  any 
particular  merit  in  the  writing.  They  show,  on  calmer 
reading,  the  faults  of  hurried  composition,  unregulated  by 
reason  or  logical  analysis.  The  great  speeches  of  Patrick 
Henry,  particularly  his  famous  one  before  the  Virginia 
convention  of  1775,  have  been  repeated  until  their  words 
are  as  familiar  in  our  memories  as  the  clauses  of  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  itself.  But  his  addresses,  like 
those  of  Adams  and  Quincy,  owe  their  reputation  largely 
to  tradition,  and  in  many  cases  the  very  words  of  the  orig- 
inal speeches  have  been  forgotten,  and  have  been  supplied 
by  later  writers.  William  Wirt,  the  biographer  of  Henry, 
probably  wrote  a considerable  part  of  the  thrilling  address 
to  the  convention  of  Delegates  in  1775,  and  it  is  well  known 
that  the  most  popular  of  Otis’s  speeches  was  written  by 
Lydia  Maria  Child,  and  is  to  be  found  in  her  novel,  The 
Rebels . 

The  Spirit  of  ’76. — At  midnight  of  the  18th  of  April, 
1775,  Paul  Revere  raised  the  “cry  of  alarm  to  every  Mid- 
dlesex village  and  farm,”  and  at  seven  o’clock  on  the  fol- 
lowing morning  eight  hundred  British  soldiers  bound  for 
Concord  found  themselves  confronted  by  the  minutemen, 
the  “ embattled  farmers.”  Rev.  William  Emerson,  the 
grandfather  of  the  poet  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  advised 
his  people  to  “ stand  their  ground.” 

Longfellow  has  told  in  “ Paul  Revere’s  Ride  ” the  story 
of  the  Revolutionary  rising,  and  Emerson,  in  his  “ Hymn 
on  the  Dedication  of  the  Concord  Monument,”  has  told  of 
the  firing  of  the  shot  heard  round  the  world.  In  1776 
Thomas  Paine  wrote,  in  the  Crisis , “ These  are  the  times 
that  try  men’s  souls.  The  summer  soldier  and  the  sun- 
shine patriot  will,  in  this  crisis,  shrink  from  the  service  of 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD. 


29 


his  country ; but  he  that  stands  it  now,  deserves  the  love 
and  thanks  of  man  and  woman.”  This  soul-trying  crisis 
is  the  heroic  age  of  our  history.  It  disciplined  every  fac- 
ulty of  mind  and  summoned  up  every  energy.  It  taught 
‘ heroism,  faithfulness,  steadfastness.  It  produced  import- 
ant political  documents,  but  was  necessarily  barren  of  all 
purely  literary  compositions. 

Thomas  Paine. — The  Crisis , the  first  words  of  which 
have  just  been  quoted,  and  which  appeared  at  irregular  in- 
tervals during  the  Revolution,  was  the  work  of  Paine,  and 
exercised  a considerable  influence  upon  the  fortunes  of  the 
war.  The  first  number  appeared  during  the  winter  of 
1776,  and  was  read  by  order  of  General  Washington  to 
all  the  American  troops.  Undoubtedly,  the  stirring  words 
and  patriotic  fervor  of  the  author  went  far  to  preserve  the 
courage  and  discipline  of  the  army. 

Paine  was  born  in  Norfolk,  England,  in  1737,  and  died 
in  New  York  in  1809.  He  came  to  America  in  1774  with 
introductory  letters  from  Franklin.  His  principal  literary 
works  are  three  in  number.  Common  Sense , published  in 
1776,  argued  in  simple  language  for  the  complete  inde- 
pendence of  the  colonies.  The  Rights  of  Man  appeared  in 
1791 ; it  was  a reply  to  Edmund  Burke’s  Reflections  on  the 
French  Revolution , and  was  the  most  popular  political  work 
in  France  and  England  that  has  ever  been  published.  The 
last  of  Paine’s  books,  The  Age  of  Reason , was  partly  written 
while  the  author  was  imprisoned  in  France  by  order  of  the 
Revolutionists,  whom  he  had  offended.  It  was  a vulgar 
attack  upon  the  Bible.  But  its  abusiveness  and  scurrility 
ought  not  to  blind  us  to  the  great  services  which  Paine 
rendered  to  the  cause  of  American  liberty. 

The  Makers  of  the  Nation. — The  American  people 
were  made  into  a nation  by  the  adoption  of  the  Consti- 
tution of  1789.  The  men  who  conceived  the  plan  of  that 
Constitution,  and  thereby  created  the  National  Govern- 
ment, are  the  real  makers  of  the  nation.  Prominent  among 


30 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


them  were  Alexander  Hamilton,  John  Jay,  James  Mad- 
ison, George  Washington,  John  Adams,  Fisher  Ames, 
Thomas  Jefferson,  John  Marshall,  and  Joseph  Story. 

The  formal  cessation  of  hostilities  after  the  surrender  of 
Cornwallis  was  on  the  19th  of  April,  1783,  on  the  eighth 
anniversary  of  the  conflict  at  Concord.  As  soon  as  Paine 
heard  that  the  preliminary  negotiations  for  a treaty  of 
peace  had  been  concluded,  he  published  the  final  num- 
ber of  the  Crisis , in  which,  reverting  to  the  now  famous 
words  with  which  he  had  begun  its  publication  seven  years 
before,  he  said,  “ The  times  that  tried  men’s  souls  are  over.” 
But  the  security  of  the  nation  was  not  determined  by  the 
peace  over  which  Paine  and  the  patriots  exulted.  On 
the  contrary,  the  next  six  years,  from  1783  to  1789,  were 
the  most  critical  in  all  our  history.  The  destinies  of  the 
country  were  shaped  and  the  great  federal  nation  was 
formed  by  the  men  whose  discussions  produced  the  Consti- 
tution under  which  we  live. 

Thomas  Jefferson  by  writing  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence became  the  author  of  the  most  famous  political 
document  in  history.  He  prepared  the  way  for  the  expan- 
sion of  America  by  purchasing  Louisiana  from  the  French. 
He  founded  the  University  of  Virginia  and  made  liberal 
provision  for  the  complete  study  of  English  literature. 
The  statute  for  religious  liberty  in  Virginia  emanated  from 
him.  His  Notes  on  Virginia  display  considerable  literary 
finish  and  at  times  a fine  sense  of  style.  This  ardent  Dem- 
ocrat and  Anti-federalist  received  his  earliest  instruction  at 
William  and  Mary  College,  and  was  one  of  the  best  edu- 
cated of  American  statesmen.  He  was  born  in  Shadwell, 
Albemarle  county,  Virginia,  April  2,  1743,  and  died  at 
Monticello  in  the  same  county  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  1826, 
just  fifty  years  after  the  Declaration  of  Independence: 
John  Adams  died  upon  the  same  day. 

The  Constitution. — “As  the  British  Constitution  is 
the  most  subtle  organism  which  has  proceeded  from  pro- 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD.  31 

I 

gressive  history,  so  the  American  Constitution  is  the  most 
wonderful  work  ever  struck  off  at  a given  time  by  the 
brain  and  purpose  of  man.”  These  are  the  famous  words 
in  which  Mr.  Gladstone  described  the  work  of  the  makers 
of  the  nation.  Never  before  had  a written  constitution 
been  produced  of  such  uniform  excellence,  so  wisely 
adapted  to  the  needs  and  circumstances  of  the  people,  and 
withal  so  admirable  as  a literary  performance  both  in  pre- 
cision and  simplicity. 

The  Federal  convention  which  framed  this  political  mas- 
terpiece consisted  of  fifty-five  members,  twenty-nine  of 
them  university-men.  It  was  “ an  assembly  of  demigods,” 
said  Jefferson.  In  the  discussion  over  the  Constitution 
arose  the  two  great  political  parties  which  absorbed  the 
various  local  parties  of  the  States.  Those  who  supported 
the  new  Constitution  were  Federalists;  their  opponents 
were  called  Anti-federalists.  The  national  issue  gave  rise 
to  endless  controversy  which  expressed  itself  in  number- 
less pamphlets,  caricatures,  satires,  and  heated  arguments. 

The  Federalist  is  the  chief  work  of  the  Revolutionary  pe- 
riod. It  is  not  surpassed  by  any  similar  essay  on  govern- 
ment in  the  world’s  literature.  It  is  “ undoubtedly  the 
most  profound  and  suggestive  treatise  on  government  that 
has  ever  been  written  ” [Fiske].  The  Federalist  was  a 
series  of  papers  addressed  to  the  people  of  New  York  urg- 
ing them  to  adopt  the  Constitution,  and  to  that  end  ex- 
plaining in  simple  and  incisive  language  its  meaning  and 
practical  working.  The  plan  originated  with  Alexander 
Hamilton,  and  the  essays  were  written  by  Hamilton, 
John  Jay,  and  James  Madison.  They  were  published  in 
the  Independent  Gazetteer , a semi-weekly  journal  of  New 
York,  over  the  signature  “ Publius.”  There  were  in  all 
eighty-five  papers,  Hamilton  writing  fifty-one,  Madison 
twenty-nine,  and  Jay  five. 

Alexander  Hamilton  wrote  the  first  number  of  the 
Federalist  in  the  cabin  of  a sloop  on  the  Hudson  River,  in 


32 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


October,  1787.  It  is  upon  these  essays  and  their  masterly 
interpretation  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  government 
that  the  literary  fame  of  Hamilton  depends.  His  other 
services  to  the  country,  however,  were  of  great  import- 
ance. He  was  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  of  him  Web- 
ster said,  “ He  smote  the  rock  of  the  national  resources,  and 
abundant  streams  of  revenue  gushed  forth.  He  touched 
the  dead  corpse  of  Public  Credit,  and  it  sprung  upon  its 
feet.”  Among  his  important  writings  are  letters  and  opin- 
ions on  a national  banking  system.  Hamilton  was  un- 
doubtedly the  wisest  and  most  brilliant  of  American  states- 
men. He  was  born  in  the  island  of  Nevis,  West  Indies, 
January  11,  1757,  and  was  killed  in  a duel  by  Aaron  Burr 
July  12,  1804. 

Other  Folitical  Writers. — Fisher  Ames  (1758-1808) 
wrote  several  political  papers  under  the  pen-names  of  Bru- 
tus and  Camillus.  He  was  more  careful  of  his  literary 
style  than  were  any  of  his  contemporaries,  and  illuminated 
his  speeches  and  his  essays  with  picturesque  descriptions 
and  well-chosen  figures.  His  rich  imagination  loaded  his 
style  with  fanciful  ornament.  For  example,  in  describing 
the  nations  of  the  European  continent  he  writes : “ Com- 
merce has  not  a single  ship ; arts  and  manufactures  exist  in 
ruins  and  memory  only ; credit  is  a spectre  that  haunts  its 
burying-place ; justice  has  fallen  on  its  own  sword;  and 
liberty,  after  being  sold  to  Ishmaelites,  is  stripped  of  its 
bloody  garments  to  disguise  its  robbers.” 

Chief-Justice  John  Marshall  (1755-1835)  wrote  the 
Life  of  Washington , and  strengthened  the  Constitution  by 
his  clear  legal  decisions. 

William  Wirt  (1772-1834),  a native  of  Maryland,  was 
appointed  attorney-general  of  the  United  States  in  1817. 
His  fame  was  great  as  a lawyer  and  public  speaker.  The 
passage  in  his  speech  upon  the  trial  of  Burr  in  which  he 
described  the  home  of  Blennerhasset  is  still  quoted  and 
admired.  His  earliest  work  was  The  British  Spy  (1803).  It 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD. 


33 


contains  a number  of  florid  and  at  times  vivid  accounts 
of  orators  and  oratory.  Its  best  essay  is  upon  “ The  Blind 
Preacher”  (James  Waddel).  The  Old  Bachelor  (1812)  in- 
cludes several  essays  upon  Virginia,  the  fine  arts,  etc.,  writ- 
ten in  the  style  of  the  Spectator . Wirt  also  wrote  The  Life 
of  Patrick  Henry  (1817). 

Joseph  Story  was  born  in  Marblehead,  Mass.,  Septem- 
ber 18,  1779,  and  died  in  Cambridge,  Mass.,  September  10, 
1845.  He  began  the  practice  of  law  in  Salem,  Mass.  In 
1811  he  was  appointed  by  President  Madison  an  associate 
justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States.  He  was 
the  first  professor  of  law  in  the  Dane  Law  School  at  Harvard. 
In  spite  of  his  busy  life  as  teacher  and  as  judge,  he  found 
time  to  write  more  text-books  on  jurisprudence  than  any 
other  writer  of  his  time.  Among  his  best  works  are  Com- 
mentaries on  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  (1833)  ; Com- 
mentaries on  the  Conflict  of  Laws  (1834),  Commentaries  on 
Equity  Jurisprudence  (1835),  Law  of  Partnership  (1841), 
Law  of  Bills  of  Exchange  (1843),  Law  of  Promissory  Notes 
(1845). 

His  son,  William  Wetmore  Story  (1819 ),  is  a poet 

and  artist,  now  living  in  Italy.  He  has  published  Roba  di 
Roma  ; or , Walks  and  Talks  about  Rome  (1862),  Tragedy  of 
Nero  (1875),  Castle  St.  Angelo  (1877),  He  and  She ; or , A 
Poet's  Portfolio  (1883). 

Poets  of  the  Revolution. — Among  all  the  passionate 
and  argumentative  writing  of  the  time  rose  a poetry  which 
devoted  itself  to  the  glory  of  the  patriot  cause  and  the  ridi- 
cule of  the  Tories.  This  new  poetic  spirit  is  best  repre- 
sented by  three  men — John  Trumbull,  Joel  Barlow,  and 
Philip  Freneau  [pronounced  Fre'no'].  Born  within  a few 
years  of  each  other,  Trumbull  in  1750,  Barlow  in  1754, 
and  Freneau  in  1752,  they  began  to  write  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Revolution,  and  all  lived  beyond  the  century 
and  saw  the  successful  result  of  the  struggle  in  which  they 
had  done  so  much  to  assist. 


3 


34 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Trumbull's  major  poem  was  McFingal , the  most  popular 
of  the  Revolutionary  period,  and  the  most  important  in 
our  literature  prior  to  1800.  Numerous  editions  of  it  were 
necessary  in  this  country,  and  it  was  several  times  re- 
printed in  England.  Its  popularity  was  deserved,  for  its 
English  is  at  times  quite  as  good  as  that  of  its  great  model, 
Hudibras .*  Its  only  rival  among  the  political  satires  of 
our  own  country  is  The  Biglow  Papers  of  James  Russell 
Lowell.  The  first  canto  of  the  poem  was  written  in  1775 
upon  the  events  of  the  campaign  of  that  year,  and  pub- 
lished in  Philadelphia.  The  complete  poem,  in  four 
cantos,  was  revised  at  the  close  of  the  war,  and  published 
at  Hartford  in  1782. 

McFingal,  who  takes  his  name  from  the  Scotch  hero  of 
the  Ossian  poems,  represents  the  Tory  party.  Honorius 
is  the  champion  of  the  Whigs.  The  greater  part  of  the  book 
is  an  animated  controversy  between  the  two  party-lead- 
ers, ending  in  a free  fight  about  the  liberty-pole.  McFin- 
gal is  tarred  and  feathered,  and  escapes  the  mob  by  break- 
ing from  a window  and  flying  to  the  camp  of  General  Gage 
at  Boston.  The  American  spirit  which  everywhere  pene- 
trates and  permeates  the  poem  lends  an  original  flavor  to 
the  verses,  which  in  literary  form  are  close  imitations  of 
Butler’s  Hudibras. 

Barlow's  most  pretentious  work  was  the  colossal  Colum- 
biad  (1807).  It  is  unspeakably  dull  and  altogether  un- 
readable. The  plan  of  the  huge  epic  is  very  simple.  Hes- 
per  releases  Columbus  from  his  Spanish  prison  and  trans- 
ports him  to  a mountain-summit  commanding  a royal 
vision  of  the  vast  dimensions  of  America.  It  is  not  a bird’s- 
eye  view  which  is  vouchsafed  to  Columbus  and  the  reader, 
but  the  eye-stroke  of  a phoenix  which  encompasses  the 
geography  of  the  continent  and  the  history  of  “ Columbia.” 
The  conquest  of  Mexico,  the  ancient  civilization  of  Peru, 


^Hudibras , a mock-epic  written  by  Samuel  Butler  in  England,  in 
1663-64,  in  ridicule  of  the  Puritans. 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD. 


35 


the  plantation  of  the  English  colonies  in  North  America, 
the  French  War,  the  Revolution, — all  wind  slow  and  stately 
through  the  interminable  pages  of  this  monstrous  epic. 
The  artificial  style,  the  showy  rhetoric,  and  cheap  imagery 
of  the  poem  are  derived  from  servile  imitation  of  the  glit- 
tering versifiers  of  the  Queen  Anne  age. 

Satire  is  the  most  potent  instrument  of  political  crises, 
and  all  the  poets  of  the  Revolution  were  adroit  and  suc- 
cessful in  their  use  of  it.  Although  Barlow’s  failure  was 
complete  in  attempting  a serious  epic,  his  success  was  quite 
genuine  when  in  1793  he  composed  a mock-heroic  poem 
entitled  Hasty  Pudding.  It  is  a clever  work,  abounding  in 
the  peculiar  American  humor  which  appeared  early  in  the 
history  of  the  colonies,  but  established  its  traits  in  literature 
during  the  Revolution. 

Barlow  died  of  exposure  in  1812  in  Poland,  having 
become  involved  in  the  retreat  of  Napoleon’s  army  from 
Moscow. 

Freneau  was  the  most  skilful  of  the  Revolutionary 
versifiers.  His  patriotic  rhymes  are  as  weak  and  empty 
as  those  of  his  contemporaries,  but  he  treated  other 
themes  with  a graceful  beauty  that  lifts  him  out  of  the 
common  cry  of  rhymsters  and  gives  him  a distinctly 
different  place  in  the  history  of  American  letters.  A 
finer  sense  of  propriety  in  style  is  at  once  discernible  in 
“ The  Indian  Burying-Ground  ” and  the  “ Wild  Honey- 
suckle.” Freneau  was  the  first  writer  to  detect  the  ele- 
ments of  romance  that  resided  in  the  picturesque  savage  of 
America,  and  in  a few  of  his  best  poems  anticipated,  in 
slight  measure,  the  great  achievements  of  Cooper  and 
Longfellow. 

The  Hartford  Wits. — It  is  not  a little  curious  that  the 
majority  of  the  poets  of  the  Revoli 
Connecticut  and  graduates  of  Yi 
and  Barlow  were  of  that  State 
ing  been  born  in  New  York  and 


36 


American  literature. 


the  College  of  New  Jersey.  The  close  of  the  war  found 
Hartford,  Conn.,  the  capital  city  of  American  poetry.  The 
greatest  of  the  colonial  students  of  Yale,  it  will  be  remem- 
bered, was  Jonathan  Edwards.  His  grandson^  Timothy 
Dwight,  born  in  1752,  was  president  of  Yale  from  1795  to 
1817,  and  published  in  1785  at  Hartford  The  Conquest  of 
Canaan , a poem  in  eleven  books,  which  he  had  written 
eleven  years  before.  It  was  a faithful  imitation  of  the  pop- 
ular English  style,  composed  in  ten-syllabled  verses  rhym- 
ing in  pairs.  It  is  in  the  highest  degree  artificial  and  mo- 
notonous, perhaps  as  prosy  and  as  dull  as  the  Columbiad 
itself.  A better  product  of  Dwight’s  muse  was  Greenfield 
Hill , a pretty  account  of  the  author’s  own  Connecticut  vil- 
lage. It  was  Dwight’s  son,  Theodore,  who  was  a central 
figure  in  the  group  of  wits  and  brilliant  thinkers  who 
directly  after  the  war,  made  Hartford  a successful  rival  of 
Boston  and  Philadelphia  for  literary  honors.  The  other 
stars  of  the  constellation,  “ The  Pleiades  of  Connecticut,” 
were  Trumbull,  Barlow,  David  Humphreys,  Richard 
Alsop,  Lemuel  Hopkins,  and  Elihu  Smith. 

In  the  great  and  bitter  controversy  which  raged  over  the 
adoption  of  the  Constitution  the  Hartford  Wits  supported 
the  Federalist  party  with  all  their  energy  and  skill.  The 
Anarchiad  was  a series  of  sharply -pointed  poems  published 
by  the  wits  in  the  Nevj  Haven  Gazette.  The  anarchy  of  the 
time  immediately  before  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution 
was  keenly  satirized  and  happily  amended  by  these  vigor- 
ous political  papers,  which,  according  to  their  authors,  were 
extracts  from  an  old  book  on  the  “ Restoration  of  Chaos 
and  Substantial  Night.”  The  Echo  and  the  Political  Green 
House  were  somewhat  similar  publications  of  the  same 
minds. 

Ballad- Writers. — Many  of  the  sprightly  ballads  of  the 
Revolution  have  completely  disappeared,  many  are  buried 
in  the  pages  of  forgotten  newspapers ; some,  which  were 
vended  on  the  streets,  as  Benjamin  Franklin  sold  his,  re- 


THE  REVOLUTIONARY  PERIOD . 


37 


main  in  libraries  and  museums  as  historical  curiosities  in- 
teresting to  the  antiquary,  but  bare  of  all  literary  merit. 
“ Yankee  Doodle  ” came  into  vogue  in  this  period.  Francis 
Hopkinson  composed  a humorous  ballad  on  the  famous 
“ Battle  of  the  Kegs,”  commemorating  the  unique  episode 
in  the  campaign  at  Philadelphia.  It  was  his  son  Joseph 
who  wrote  the  universally-known  song  “ Hail  Columbia.” 
Other  ballads  were  “Free  America,”  “ The  Fate  of  Bur- 
goyne,”  “ Wyoming  Massacre,”  “ Jack  Bray,”  and  “ Bold 
Hawthorne.” 

The  Progress  of  Style. — When  the  spirit  of  poetry 
passed  from  Connecticut  it  reappeared  in  the  nineteenth 
century  in  New  York  and  in  Boston.  During  the  two  pre- 
ceding centuries  the  subjects  of  poetry  were  occasionally 
original,  but  the  style  was  always  imitative.  The  writers 
who  pleased  the  colonies  chose  English  subjects,  and  wrote 
upon  them  as  Englishmen  would.  Those  who  interested 
the  Revolutionists  also  imitated  the  style  of  English  writers, 
but  preferred  to  select  subjects  of  local  American  interest, 
and  often  succeeded  in  investing  them  with  not  a little  of 
the  native  American  spirit.  The  most  successful  and  most 
thoughtful  of  the  writers  of  the  latter  part  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  did  not  dream  of  asserting  their  literary 
independence  of  the  Old  World  and  instituting  new  forms 
of  poetry  or  prose.  Philip  Freneau  said  of  the  English 
writers  who  sneered  at  their  fellow-craftsmen  in  America, 
“They  are,  however,  excusable  in  treating  the  American 
authors  as  inferiors,  a political  and  a literary  independence 
of  their  nation  being  two  very  different  things ; the  first 
was  accomplished  in  about  seven  years,  the  latter  will  not 
be  completely  effected  perhaps  in  as  many  centuries.” 
Fisher  Ames  declared  in  1801  that  it  was  quite  impossible 
that  there  should  ever  be  a national  literature  in  America. 

The  English  people  had  gone  through,  in  the  two  cen- 
turies during  which  America  had  been  growing  up  to  large 
and  capable  national  life,  the  most  momentous  literary 


38 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


changes  in  their  history.  In  1600  they  were  at  the  height 
of  their  greatest  period,  the  Elizabethan,  and  the  language 
underwent  a process  of  rapid  evolution  to  meet  the  neces- 
sities of  the  hour  and  to  express  the  national  pride,  the  lofty 
thoughts,  the  high  aspirations  of  the  revival  of  learning. 
Toward  the  close  of  the  century  the  literature  declined 
from  the  heights  it  had  reached  under  Queen,  Elizabeth. 
Seeking  after  a more  quiet  style  and  more  simple  beauty, 
literature  became  affected  and  artificial  and  clothed  itself  in 
mannerisms.  The  classical  style  of  Queen  Anne  was  cre- 
ated. And  it  in  turn  was  converted  in  the  latter  half  of 
the  eighteenth  century  into  the  romantic  style,  which  has 
obtained  throughout  the  present  century.  The  earliest 
English  writers  in  America  perpetuated  the  traditions  of 
the  Elizabethan  age,  and  our  colonial  books  therefore  are 
full  of  the  vigorous,  vivid,  figurative  language  of  the  time 
of  Shakespeare.  The  selection  from  Cotton  Mather  on 
literary  style  * suggests  the  transition  to  the  Queen- Anne 
manner.  The  learned  mastodon  of  Boston  protests  against 
the  decay  of  the  “ massy  style  ” in  which  he  had  been  in- 
structed. The  quotation  from  Franklin  f illustrates  the 
new  style  which  supervened  upon  the  massive  structure  of 
the  Elizabethans.  The  Revolutionist  poets  found  their 
models  in  the  writers  that  clustered  round  the  court  of 
Queen  Anne  and  the  person  of  Alexander  Pope.  The  re- 
sult was  a bare,  meagre  poetry,  redeemed  only  by  racy 
humor  and  unmistakable  earnestness  of  purpose. 

The  first  dawn  of  the  new  day  was  in  New  York.  On 
the  threshold  of  the  nineteenth  century,  before  its  first 
decade  is  completed,  we  confront  our  first  man  of  letters, 
the  first  finished  artist  who  upon  this  continent  lived  for 
literature  and  compelled  the  attention  of  European  culture. 


* See  page  167. 


f See  page  168. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  New  York  Writers. 

1809-1832. 

Washington  Irving  (1783-1859). — “ Thirty  years  ago 
he  might  have  been  seen  on  an  autumnal  afternoon  trip- 
ping with  an  elastic  step  along  Broadway,  with  low-quar- 
tered shoes  neatly  tied,  and  a Talma  cloak,  a short  garment 
that  hung  from  the  shoulders  like  the  cape  of  a coat. 
There  was  a chirping,  cheery,  old-school  air  in  his  appear- 
ance which  was  undeniably  Dutch  and  most  harmonious 
with  the  associations  of  his  writings.”  In  these  words 
George  William  Curtis  has  described  our  first  American 
author,  “in  his  habit  as  he  lived.”  Washington  Irving, 
while  by  no  means  the  greatest  or  most  important  of  our 
writers,  does,  without  doubt,  deserve  the  honorable  and 
imposing  title  of  Father  of  American  Literature. 

Jonathan  Edwards  for  his  logic,  and  Franklin  for  his 
political  sagacity,  had  been  admired  in  Europe,  but  in 
Washington  Irving  was  for  the  first  time  recognized  an 
American  writer  of  rare  genius  and  unquestionable  lite- 
rary skill.  His  imagination  played  upon  the  homely  sub- 
jects of  our  new  and  rude  country,  and  invested  them 
with  the  grace  and  glamour  of  romance.  He  won  the 
admiration  of  England’s  most  severe  critics  by  the  purity 
and  perfection  of  his  style.  From  him  our  literature 
dates,  for  before  him  no  American  (with  the  exception  of 

39 


40 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Charles  Brockden  Brown)  had  lived  for  literature,  had 
cultivated  it  for  its  own  sake,  and  acknowledged  no 
ulterior  purpose,  political  or  polemical. 

Irving  himself  wrote : “ It  has  been  a matter  of  marvel 
to  my  European  readers  that  a man  from  the  wilds  of 
America  should  express  himself  in  tolerable  English.  I 
was  looked  upon  as  something  new  and  strange  in  lite- 
rature— a kind  of  demi-savage  with  a feather  in  his  hand, 
instead  of  on  his  head,  and  there  was  a curiosity  to  hear 
what  such  a being  had  to  say  about  civilized  society.” 

In  Dutch  New  York,  Washington  Irving  was  born, 
April  3,  1783.  Washington’s  army  occupied  the  city,  the 
war  was  over,  and  the  child  born  in  the  happy  year  of 
peace  was  given  the  renowned  name  of  the  first  Presi- 
dent. The  New  York  of  1783  had  less  than  twenty-five 
thousand  inhabitants,  and  covered  a narrow  strip  of  land 
which  is  now  the  extreme  southern  point  of  the  great 
metropolis.  The  Dutch  and  English  residents  mingled  lit- 
tle with  each  other.  From  the  quaint  gabled  houses  of  the 
town,  with  its  ancient  burghers  dozing  on  benches  at  the 
doors  of  their  whitewashed  houses,  the  boy  Irving  wan- 
dered almost  daily  into  remote  regions  of  Dutch  myth  and 
mystery,  for  already  the  drowsy  imagination  of  the  Knick- 
erbockers had  created  strange  stories  about  the  Hudson 
and  Hell-Gate  and  the  Catskills,  and,  indeed,  about  all  the 
neighboring  country.  Irving  did  not  follow  his  brothers 
to  Columbia  College.  When  sixteen  years  old  he  entered 
a lawyer’s  office,  but  read  more  poetry  than  law.  He  was 
allowed  his  own  way  in  these  and  other  matters,  for  his 
delicate  health  had  for  years  been  the  cause  of  serious  con- 
cern to  his  family.  With  gun  and  dog  he  explored  the 
wilderness  of  New  York  and  voyaged  up  the  Hudson. 
These  outings  and  ramblings  temporarily  reinforced  his 
physical  strength  and  stored  his  mind  with  material  for 
future  use. 

As  Franklin’s  first  compositions  were  unsigned  commu- 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


41 


nications  to  his  brother’s  newspaper,  so  Irving’s  first  pub- 
lications were  letters  purporting  to  be  by  one  Jonathan 
Oldstyle,  contributed  in  1802  to  the  Morning  Chronicle , a 
newspaper  conducted  by  his  brother  Peter. 

In  1804,  Irving  sailed  for  Europe  to  try  what  the  climate 
of  the  southern  countries  and  of  the  Mediterranean  could 
do  for  his  health.  For  two  years  he  visited  the  ancient 
homes  of  art  and  culture : the  provincial  New  Yorker  be- 
came a citizen  of  the  world.  In  1806  he  returned  to  New 
York.  One  of  his  brothers  had  married  the  sister  of 
James  Kirke  Paulding,  and  now  Irving,  his  brother  Wil- 
liam, and  Paulding  began  the  publication  of  a semi- 
monthly periodical  called  Salmagundi . Its  purpose  was 

c‘  to  instruct  the  young,  reform  the  old,  correct  the  town, 
and  castigate  the  age.”  In  these  papers  Irving  appears, 
under  the  pen-name  of  Launcelot  Langstaff,  as  a success- 
ful imitator  of  Addison.  Hardly  was  Salmagundi  discon- 
tinued before  Irving  had  conceived  the  plan  of  a burlesque 
history  of  New  York.  It  was  published  in  1809:  A His- 
tory of  New  York , by  Diedrich  Knickerbocker.  It  pur- 
ported to  be  a sober  history  of  manners  and  customs 
under  the  Dutch  governors.  It  was  even  gravely  dedi- 
cated to  the  New  York  Historical  Society.  The  book  was 
at  once  successful.  Its  broad  fun  was  very  contagious. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  praised  it,  the  world  read  it  and  laughed. 
It  is  a masterpiece  of  humor,  as  perfect  in  its  way  as  any- 
thing of  Swift  or  Sterne,  and  as  pure  in  style  as  Defoe. 

In  England  and  on  the  continent  of  Europe  Irving 
lived  from  1815  to  1832.  His  fine  nature  was  strangely 
stirred  by  the  historical  associations  of  the  classic  soil  of 
England.  He  had  been  educated  from  infancy  in  the  lite- 
rature of  Great  Britain,  and  when  actually  in  contact  with 
the  world  about  which  he  had  been  all  his  life  reading 
and  thinking,  ineffaceable  impressions  were  made  upon 
his  sympathetic  nature.  “ I have  never  yet,”  he  said, 
“ grown  familiar  enough  with  the  crumbling  monuments 


42 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  past  ages  to  blunt  the  interest  with  which  I at  first  be- 
held them.”  Again:  “I  was  continually  coming  upon 
some  little  document  of  poetry,  in  the  blossomed  haw- 
thorn, the  daisy,  the  cowslip,  the  primrose,  or  some  other 
simple  object,  that  has  received  a supernatural  value  from 

the  muse I shall  never  forget  the  thrill  of  ecstasy 

with  which  I first  saw  the  lark  rise,  almost  from  beneath 
my  feet,  and  wing  its  musical  flight  up  into  the  morning 
sky.”  The  first  book  published  by  Irving  in  England 
combined,  as  we  would  expect,  both  the  old  subjects  and 
the  new.  It  was  The  Sketch-Book , published  in  1819-20, 
and  continued  the  romances  of  old  New  York  in  the  im- 
mortal tales  of  “Rip  Van  Winkle”  and  the  “ Legend  of 
Sleepy  Hollow,”  and  illustrated  all  the  author’s  enthu- 
siasm for  England  in  the  fine  essays  on  Westminster 
Abbey  and  Stratford-on-Avon. 

Sketches  and  stories  of  English  life  continued  to  ap- 
pear in  Bracebridge  Hall  (1822)  and  Tales  of  a Traveller 
(1824). 

In  Spain,  from  1826  to  1829,  Irving  was  absorbed 
in  literary  work,  and  produced  the  most  important  and 
most  fascinating  of  his  books.  He  undertook  first  the 
Life  of  Columbus.  His  studies  for  this  acquainted  him 
with  the  ancient  romance  of  Spain  and  the  stormy  days  of 
Moorish  rule.  He  found  the  fascination  of  the  subject 
strong  upon  him,  and  put  the  brilliant  deeds  and  splendid 
history  of  mediseval  Spain  into  four  other  books — Conquest 
of  Granada , Alhambra , Moorish  Chronicles , and  Legends  of 
the  Conquest  of  Spain.  Glittering  pageants  of  Moorish  war- 
riors, the  castellated  palace  of  the  Moors,  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  Saracen  and  Christian,  the  sound  and  stir  of  bat- 
tles and  triumphs,  the  swift  succession  of  dazzling  pictures, 
fill  these  books  with  a permanent  and  priceless  interest. 

The  enthusiasm  of  the  past  was  upon  him  while  he 
wrote.  The  facts  which  he  gleaned  with  industry  and  toil 
from  old  chronicles  were  developed  and  combined  in  the 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


43 


dreamy  air  of  the  Alhambra  itself,  which  for  these  years 
was  Irving’s  residence. 

In  1829  he  resumed  his  London  life,  as  secretary  of  the 
legation  to  the  court  of  St.  James.  Honors  were  lavished 
upon  him.  He  was  petted  and  admired  by  all  circles  of 
society  and  of  literature.  The  Royal  Society  of  Litera- 
ture awarded  him  a gold  medal  in  1830,  and  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford  conferred  upon  him  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Civil  Laws,  in  recognition  of  his  great  services  to  history 
and  literature  in  his  group  of  Spanish  books. 

In  1832,  after  an  absence  of  seventeen  years,  he  returned 
to  New  York. 

On  the  Prairies  and  in  the  great  West,  Irving  found 
himself  soon  after  his  return  to  America.  Seventeen  years 
had  wrought  great  changes  in  the  country.  Vast  currents 
of  emigration  were  turning  westward.  Irving’s  first  desire 
was  to  acquaint  himself  with  the  entire  country.  To  grat- 
ify his  curiosity,  therefore,  he  undertook  an  extensive  tour 
beyond  the  outposts  of  civilized  life  into  the  wilderness  of 
the  Far  West.  In  1835  some  of  his  experiences  and  obser- 
vations were  published  in  a Tour  on  the  Prairies . 

For  John  Jacob  Astor  he  wrote  an  account  of  the  fur- 
trade  in  the  North  and  North-west,  under  the  title  of  As- 
toria, and  completed  his  sketches  of  wild  American  life  in 
The  Adventures  of  Captain  Bonneville. 

During  this  period,  also,  WolferVs  Roost  was  published^ 
containing  stray  papers  contributed  to  the  Knickerbocker 
Magazine. 

At  Sunny  side. — In  1842,  Irving  was  sent  as  minister 
to  Spain,  where  he  remained  for  four  years.  On  his  re- 
turn, in  1846,  he  made  his  home  at  Sunnyside,  near  Tarry- 
town.  He  was  close  to  Old  Sleepy  Hollow  and  in  one  of 
the  loveliest  retreats  on  the  Hudson.  Here;  surrounded 
by  friends,  he  lived  the  last  peaceful  years  of  his  serene 
and  gentle  life.  Here  he  wrote  his  last  group  of  books, 
the  biographies.  First  came  Mahomet  and  his  Succes - 


44 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


sors,  a work  of  inferior  merit.  Then  followed  the  Life  of 
Goldsmith , a sympathetic  and  touching  delineation  of  that 
vagrant,  thriftless,  lovable  child  of  genius,  whose  style  and 
humor  so  often  find  an  echo  in  the  pages  of  his  genial 
biographer. 

Last  of  the  biographies,  most  laborious,  though  not  the 
most  successful,  is  the  Life  of  Washington , minute  in  its 
incidents,  careful  in  its  judgments,  and  faithful  in  its 
clear  portraiture  of  the  great  central  figure  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. 

Washington  Irving  died  on  the  28th  of  November,  1859. 

Irving’s  Subjects. — Three  places  have  been  so  touched 
by  the  magic  of  Irving’s  genius  that  they  have  derived  from 
him  immortal  renown ; they  are  Sleepy  Hollow,  on  the 
Hudson ; the  Red  Horse  Inn,  at  Stratford-on-Avon ; and 
the  Alhambra,  in  Spain.  These  places  have  been  ren- 
dered sacred  by  him  ; they  are  objects  which  travellers 
make  great  journeys  to  visit.  They  represent  the  three 
chief  interests  of  Irving’s  mind  and  the  three  chief  sub- 
jects of  all  his  varied  writings.  He  began  by  translat- 
ing the  silver  thread  of  the  Hudson  and  the  picturesque 
land  through  which  it  is  drawn  into  a vision  of  romantic 
interest,  and  by  spending  his  rich  humor  on  old  Dutch 
drolleries  and  scenes  of  early  Knickerbocker  history. 
His  earliest  work  was  creative  and  imaginative,  and  the 
prime  element  in  it  humor — humor  boisterous  at  first  in 
the  History  of  New  York , more  restrained  and  refined  in  the 
Sketch-Book  of  Geoffrey  Crayon.  The  tatterdemalion  Rip 
Van  Winkle  and  the  whimsical  Ichabod  Crane  are  as  dis- 
tinct additions  to  literature  as  anything  from  Dickens  or 
from  Thackeray. 

The  second  group  of  Irving’s  books  consists  entirely 
of  exquisite  descriptions  of  English  rural  life.  By  a 
single  essay  he  has  for  all  time  identified  himself  with 
Stratford-on-Avon,  and  made  his  memory  as  potent  there 
as  that  of  Shakespeare  himself. 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


45 


To  the  third  group  belong  those  brilliant  studies  in  the 
chivalrous  history  of  Spain  and  the  final  shock  of  arms 
between  the  magnificent  armies  of  Asia  and  Europe. 

Irving’s  Style. — When  Irving  delighted  England  with 
the  Sketch-Book  in  1820,  Byron  and  Scott  were  the  idols  of 
the  English  people.  The  former  had  already  done  his  best 
work ; the  latter  was  in  the  full  maturity  of  his  unrivalled 
powers.  Indeed,  in  this  very  year  (1820)  Ivanhoe  was  pub- 
lished. What  were  the  qualities  of  style  that  gained  for 
the  unknown  American  the  applause  of  the  people,  the 
respect  of  Byron,  and  the  regard  of  Scott  ? 

1.  Suavity  and  Elegance . — By  “ suavity”  is  meant  his  un- 
failing good  nature,  his  sympathy,  his  gentleness  of  cha- 
racter, which  expressed  itself  in  amiable  prose.  Irving 
always  addressed  himself  to  the  sympathetic  side  of  hu- 
man nature.  His  humor  was  without  bitterness ; no  per- 
sonal spite  or  rancor  ever  entered  his  wrork.  By  “ ele- 
gance” is  meant  the  graceful  ease  with  which  every  sub- 
ject, story  or  history,  was  handled.  There  was  no  show  nor 
display,  but  an  easy  flow  of  carefully  chosen  words  and 
admirably  constructed  sentences. 

2.  Humor . — Irving’s  humor  is  the  first  quality  to  be  ap- 
preciated in  his  works.  It  is  unregulated  in  Salmagundi , 
boisterous  and  at  times  over-broad  in  the  History  of  New 
York , but  under  perfect  control  and  restraint  in  the 
Sketch-Book  and  later  publications.  It  abounds  in  every- 
thing he  has  written.  It  is  a natural  overflow  of  the  high 
spirits  and  kindly  nature  of  the  generous  author. 

3.  Clearness  and  Simplicity. — Irving  is  conspicuously 
lacking  in  the  energy  which  other  and  later  writers  show. 
His  style  bears  no  marks  of  straining  nor  of  overdressing. 
W e very  rarely  find  in  him  examples  of  inverted  sentences 
or  repeated  phrases.  He  certainly  had  not  the  power  of 
construction.  He  could  not  devise  and  execute  the  plan  of 
a long  story.  But  when  he  clearly  saw  an  incident  he 
could  set  it  down  in  language  of  crystal  clearness  and  sim- 


46 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


plicity.  It  was,  in  great  part,  this  refreshing  quality  that 
in  an  age  of  unrestrained  diction  and  increasing  obscurity 
made  his  works  so  popular  in  England. 

Irving  falls  short  of  being  a great  writer  because  of  the 
superficial  nature  of  his  work,  because  of  his  lack  of  lite- 
rary inspiration,  which  causes  his  style  at  times  to  descend 
from  the  artistic  to  the  commonplace,  and  because  of  the 
absence  from  his  histories  of  all  scientific  method,  and 
from  his  essays  of  serious  purpose. 

The  Knickerbocker  School  is  a name  often  used  to 
denote  the  early  New  York  writers.  The  progress  of  lite- 
rature in  America  is  from  Boston  in  the  colonial  times  to 
Hartford  in  the  Revolutionary  period,  and  to  New  York  in 
the  earliest  years  of  the  nineteenth  century.  The  prin- 
cipal writers  of  the  New  York  group,  of  which  Irving  was 
the  head,  were  James  Kirke  Paulding,  James  Fenimore 
Cooper,  Joseph  Rodman  Drake,  Fitz-Greene  Halleck, 
William  Cullen  Bryant,  and  N.  P.  Willis. 

All  these  were  residents  of  New  York,  but  two  only, 
Drake  and  Irving,  were  born  in  the  city. 

James  Kirke  Paulding*  (1779-1860)  was  associated 
with  Irving  in  the  writing  of  Salmagundi.  His  bright 
humor  made  him  a worthy  companion  of  Irving.  His 
patriotism  and  quick  eye  for  local  interests  entitle  him  to  a 
place  in  that  important  group  of  writers  who  first  gave  an 
original  flavor  to  our  literature  and  interested  two  conti- 
nents in  stories  and  songs  of  American  life.  But  Pauld- 
ing has  faded  almost  entirely  from  our  memories.  It  is 
remembered  that  he  was  once  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and 
that  he  wrote  The  Dutchman's  Fireside  (1831).  The  humor 
and  pathos  of  the  book  are  alike  forgotten.  Paulding  had 
not  the  artistic  sense,  nor  the  care  for  literary  finish  which 
are  necessary  to  ensure  long  life  for  a book.  The  liveli- 
ness and  humor  which  we  find  in  him,  and  in  almost  all 
the  Knickerbockers,  is  the  natural  reaction  from  the  re- 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


47 


straint  and  severe  dulness  of  the  Puritan  theologians. 
One  other  of  Paulding’s  books,  popular  in  its  day,  but 
never  opened  now,  was  The  Diverting  History  of  John  Ball 
and  Brother  Jonathan  (1812),  a clever  satire  upon  England, 
in  the  style  of  Arbuthnot’s  John  Bull  (1713),  which  in  its 
turn  was  modelled  upon  Swift’s  Tale  of  a Tub. 

The  Novel. — Before  considering  the  next  writer  of  the 
Knickerbocker  School  it  will  be  necessary  to  understand 
the  meaning  and  the  history  of  that  form  of  literary  com- 
position which  we  call  “ the  novel.”  When  the  first  Vir- 
ginian and  Massachusetts  colonists  arrived  here  literature 
in  England  was  at  its  height.  The  most  important  pro- 
ductions of  that  time  were  dramas.  The  drama  is  a repre- 
sentation of  human  passions  in  action.  After  the  drama 
declined,  prose  fiction  arose.  This  was  about  the  middle 
of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  three  writers  who  then 
began  the  long  line  of  modern  British  novelists  were 
Fielding,  Smollett,  and  Richardson. 

The  novel  is  so  comprehensive,  and  has  so  many  possi- 
bilities, that  it  is  hard  to  define  it.  It  embraces  all  classes 
of  prose  fiction,  from  the  wild  tales  of  extravagant  romance 
to  the  simple  stories  of  quiet  realism.  “ The  novel  ar- 
ranges and  combines  round  the  passion  of  love  and  its 
course  between  two  or  more  persons,  a number  of  events 
and  characters  which  in  their  action  on  one  another 
develop  the  plot  of  the  story  and  bring  about  a sad  or 
a happy  close  ” (Brooke). 

The  French  Revolution  aroused  in  England  an  interest 
in  political  and  social  problems,  and  this  interest  expressed 
itself  in  a new  kind  of  novels.  Most  remarkable  of  the 
novelists  of  this  class  was  the  philosopher  William  God- 
win, father-in-law  of  the  poet  Shelley.  He  is  best  known 
by  his  novel  of  Caleb  Williams. 

Our  First  Novelist,  Charles  Brockden  Brown  (1771- 
1810),  was  an  admirer  and  follower  of  Godwin.  He  was 


48 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


born  in  Philadelphia  in  1771,  but  became  a resident  of 
New  York  in  1798.  In  the  latter  year  he  published  his  first 
novel,  Wieland , and  in  the  next  three  years  issued  five  other 
romances.  Brown’s  tales  are  really  romances . They  deal 
with  sombre  subjects,  with  improbable  passions  and  ex- 
periences. The  imaginary  and  the  supernatural  are  the 
most  frequent  elements  in  his  works.  Wieland  is  a story 
of  ghastly  crime  occasioned  by  a ventriloquist,  who,  by 
personating  a supernatural  being,  induces  the  hero  to  mur- 
der his  wife  and  children.  His  third  novel,  Arthur  Mervyn , 
contains  vivid  descriptions  of  the  yellow-fever  pestilence 
in  Philadelphia  in  1793.  In  Edgar  Huntley  the  author 
follows  the  fortunes  of  a somnambulist  in  the  gloomy  moun- 
tain-fastnesses of  Western  Pennsylvania.  The  plots  of 
these  romances  are  crude,  and  their  style  careless  and  im- 
mature. The  sentences  are  short,  and  the  words  often 
unusual  and  inappropriate.  But  great  credit  is  due  to 
Brown  for  having  discovered  the  capabilities  of  romance  in 
our  new  land,  and  for  having  used  in  all  his  books  Amer- 
ican characters  and  scenery.  Ghostly  stories  of  crime  and 
supernatural  agencies  were  common  when  he  began  to 
write.  It  was  the  time  of  Lewis’s  Romantic  Tales  and 
Tales  of  Terror , of  Walpole’s  Castle  of  Otranto , and  of 
Beckford’s  Vathek.  Brown,  however,  treated  his  subjects 
with  so  much  power  that  the  poet  Shelley,  into  whose 
hands  these  American  fictions  fell,  was  greatly  influenced 
by  them.  Brown  anticipated  Poe,  and  in  his  descriptions 
of  the  wilderness,  its  savage  beasts  and  men,  he  prepared 
the  way  for  Cooper. 

James  Fenimore  Cooper  (1789-1851). — In  1820,  or  in 

the  same  year  that  Irving’s  Sketch-Book  appeared  in  Eng- 
land, Cooper  published  his  first  novel.  He  extended  the 
originality  of  Irving  to  subjects  more  distinctly  American. 
He  was  “ the  second  writer  to  show  to  the  world  that  we 
were  to  have  a literature  of  our  own.”  Sir  Walter 
Scott  had  written  the  best  of  his  “Waverley”  novels, 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


49 


and  had  just  completed  Ivanhoe , when  Cooper  appeared 
with  his  first  book.  Scott,  in  his  romances,  drew  from 
a rich  store  of  ancient  Scottish  history;  Cooper  had  no 
such  historic  past  to  look  back  upon,  but  he  invented 
for  America  the  novel  of  adventure,  and  put  into  literature- 
the  picturesque  life  of  the  forest  and  the  sea. 

In  the  Wilderness. — Cooper  was  born  in  Burlington, 
New  Jersey,  September  15,  1789.  His  father,  Judge 
Cooper,  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  came  into 
the  possession  of  large  tracts  of  land  on  Lake  Otsego,  near 
the  head-waters  of  the  Susquehanna.  There  he  made  his 
permanent  home  when  the  future  novelist  was  but  one  year 
old.  Cooperstown,  as  the  place  was  called,  was  in  the 
primeval  forest  of  New  York.  Young  Cooper  grew  up  on 
the  frontier  of  the  wilderness,  and  in  a village  yet  new 
from  the  settler’s  axe.  Out  of  this  solitude  he  was  sent  to 
Yale  College.  He  proved  a dilatory  and  intractable  stu- 
dent. His  early  associations  had  created  a love  for  out- 
door life  and  wild  scenery  that  was  stronger  in  him  than 
his  affection  for  books  and  learning.  He  was  dismissed 
from  college  in  his  third  year. 

On  the  Sea. — In  1806,  Cooper  shipped  as  a common 
sailor  on  a merchant  vessel.  In  a year’s  time  he  saw 
much  hard  service  “ before  the  mast.”  In  1808  he  entered 
the  navy.  He  remained  for  three  years  in  the  service  of 
the  Government,  when  he  married  and  returned  to  his 
forest-home. 

His  First  Novel  was  the  result  of  a mere  accident.  An 
English  society  novel  had  come  in  his  way,  and  he  was 
reading  it  to  his  wife,  when,  being  dissatisfied  with  the 
book,  he  laid  it  down,  saying,  “ I believe  I could  write  a 
better  story  myself.”  The  result  was  the  novel  entitled 
Precaution , published  in  New  York  in  1820. 

The  story  conceived  by  such  curious  chance  was  per- 
haps as  good  as  the  ordinary  society  novel.  But  it  is  dull 
to  the  last  degree,  and  is  now  fortunately  forgotten.  There 

4 


50 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


is,  however,  an  historical  interest  about  Precaution . It  is 
not  without  significance  that  Cooper  began  his  literary 
career  by  writing  a story  of  English  social  life.  The  de- 
pendence of  America  upon  England  before  1820  had  been 
so  complete  that  nothing  was  deemed  of  any  value  that 
was  not  English  in  its  origin  or  character.  To  furnish  a 
good  imitation  of  a foreign  book  was  the  highest  ideal  of 
an  American  writer.  Cooper  in  his  first  book  was  no  more 
original  than  most  of  his  contemporaries.  He  not  only 
chose  English  social  life  for  the  subject  of  his  story  (a 
subject  about  which  he  knew  nothing),  but  actually 
pretended  that  the  book  was  written  by  an  English- 
man. 

“The  Spy.” — Cooper’s  literary  life  illustrates  the  his- 
tory of  our  national  literature.  As  that  history  rose  from 
servile  imitation  in  the  colonial  period  into  a little  brisk- 
ness and  pungency  during  the  Revolution,  and  to  origi- 
nality of  style  and  subject  in  the  present  century,  so 
Cooper  advanced  from  the  shallow  copy  of  an  English 
novel  of  manners  to  the  familiar  details  of  our  Revolution, 
and  thence  to  the  free  expression  in  literature  of  the  life  of 
sea  and  forest.  Precaution  had  not  been  entirely  a failure. 
Cooper’s  friends  urged  him  to  try  again,  and  to  take  a sub- 
ject with  which  he  was  more  familiar.  He  took  an  episode 
from  the  Revolution.  The  scene  was  in  Westchester, 
which  had  been  during  the  war  neutral  ground  between 
the  English  and  American  forces.  The  book  was  The 
Spy  (1821).  It  contained  the  humble  but  noble  and 
patriotic  character  of  Harvey  Birch,  one  of  the  author’s 
best  creations.  The  success  of  The  Spy  was  remarkable. 
English  critics  received  it  kindly,  and  on  its  appearance  in 
France  it  excited  enthusiasm  which  continues  unabated 
after  more  than  sixty  years. 

The  Leather-Stocking  Tales. — The  success  of  The 
Spy  clearly  showed  Cooper  what  his  career  was  to  be.  He 
was  conscious  that  he  possessed  the  power  of  delighting 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


51 


readers  with  the  witchery  of  literary  skill.  In  selecting  a 
subject  for  a third  novel  he  chose  the  picturesque  scenes 
and  homely  incidents  of  the  frontier  life  with  which  in 
childhood  he  had  been  so  familiar.  The  book  was  The 
Pioneers , and  appeared  in  1823.  In  it  he  dwelt  fondly 
upon  all  the  old  events  and  common  scenes  of  a back- 
woodsman’s life.  Its  success  was  immediate.  In  it  ap- 
peared for  the  first  time  the  immortal  figure  of  Natty 
Bumppo  (Leather-Stocking).  Without  doubt  Leather- 
Stocking  is  the  one  great  original  character  with  which 
America  has  enriched  the  world’s  literature.  Cooper  pre- 
sented this  imposing  character,  who  is  a magnificent  reali- 
zation of  the  early  pioneers,  in  four  other  books,  compris- 
ing the  Leather-Stocking  Tales.  His  life  stands  in  them  com- 
plete, from  the  first  war-path  to  his  old  age  and  death. 
The  order  in  which  the  tales  were  written  is  not  the  logical 
order,  or  that  in  which  they  should  be  read.  The  best  ar- 
rangement, or  that  by  which  the  story  of  the  hero’s  life 
may  be  continuously  followed,  is  The  Deerslayer , The  Last 
of  the  Mohicans , The  Pathfinder , The  Pioneers , and  The 
Prairie.  [It  may  be  noted  that  this  is  also  the  alphabetical 
order.]  The  greatest  of  these,  and  the  crowning  works  of 
Cooper’s  genius,  are  The  Deerslayer  and  The  Pathfinder. 

Among  Cooper’s  other  tales  of  the  wilderness  are  to  be 
noted  The  Wept  of  Wish-ton- Wish,  Wyandotte , and  the  Red- 
skins. In  his  delineation  of  Indian  life  Cooper  is  without 
a peer.  He  has  fixed  for  ever  in  literature  the  character  of 
a vanishing  race.  “ Throughout  the  whole  civilized  world 
the  conception  of  the  Indian  character  as  Cooper  drew  it 
in  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans , and  further  elaborated  it  in  the 
later  Leather-Stocking  Tales , has  taken  a permanent  hold  on 
the  imaginations  of  men  ” (Lounsbury). 

The  Sea-Stories. — Sir  Walter  Scott  had  published 
The  Pirate  in  1821.  Cooper,  with  his  experience  as  a 
sailor,  saw  at  once  that  the  author  was  a landsman.  At  a 
dinner  in  New  York  he  argued  to  that  effect  against  the 


62 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


opinion  of  the  company.  He  contended  that  even  where 
the  author’s  facts  were  right  he  would  have  made  a better 
and  more  effective  use  of  them  if  he  had  had  personal 
knowledge  of  life  on  the  ocean.  The  outcome  of  the  argu- 
ment was  a book  entitled  The  Pilot  In  this  book  Cooper 
created  the  sea-story.  Into  it  and  its  successors  Cooper 
put  with  great  success  his  knowledge  of  naval  manoeuvres 
and  of  the  handling  of  ships.  Captain  Marryat,  Clark 
Russell,  and  all  the  host  of  novelists  who  have  composed 
sea-stories  are  debtors  to  Cooper.  The  time  of  The  Pilot 
is  the  American  Revolution.  The  pilot  himself  is  John 
Paul  Jones.  The  finest  character  of  the  book,  and  one  of 
Cooper’s  best,  is  Long  Tom  Coffin  of  Nantucket. 

The  Red  Rover  is  in  many  respects  the  best  of  Cooper’s 
sea-tales.  Others,  published  at  various  dates,  are — The 
Water - Witch , Wing  and  Wing  (story  of  a French  privateer 
in  the  Mediterranean),  The  Two  Admirals , Jack  Tier , The 
Crater , The  Sea-Lions  (hunting  for  seals  in  southern  seas, 
winter  in  the  Antarctic  Ocean),  and  Afloat  and  Ashore , 
with  its  sequel,  Miles  Wallingford . The  last  two  are  partly 
autobiographic. 

Other  Novels* — Satanstoe , a capital  book,  is  an  admira- 
ble account  of  colonial  life  in  New  York.  The  Chainbearer 
is  a sequel  to  it.  Homeward  Bound  and  its  sequel,  Home 
as  Found , are  books  of  very  unequal  merit : the  first  is  a 
good  sea-story,  the  other  an  unreasonable  criticism  of 
American  manners.  Lionel  IAncoln  contains  a faithful  and 
excellent  description  of  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  Mer- 
cedes of  Castile  narrates  the  first  voyage  of  Columbus.  The 
remainder  of  Cooper’s  novels,  too  poor  to  deserve  com- 
ment or  to  merit  reading,  are  The  Heidenmauer , The  Heads- 
man,, Oak  Openings , The  Monikins , and  Ways  of  the  Hour. 

Death  of  Cooper. — On  September  14,  1851,  Cooper 
died  at  Cooperstown.  A marble  statue  of  Leather-Stock- 
ing, with  dog  and  gun,  overlooks  his  grave,  and  near  by, 
on  Lake  Otsego,  plies  the  little  steamer  “ Natty  Bumppo.” 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


53 


Cooper,  like  Irving,  rests  amid  the  scenes  he  has  made 
classic. 

Cooper's  Subjects. — As  Charles  Brockden  Brown 
followed  William  Godwin,  so  Cooper  was  a follower  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott.  He  was  frequently  called  by  his  con- 
temporaries the  “ American  Scott.”  But  this  must  not  be 
understood  to  mean  that  Cooper  was  a conscious  imitator 
of  the  great  English  novelist.  Both  composed  romances  ; 
both  were  authors  of  the  “ novel  of  adventure ;”  both 
achieved  popularity.  They  were  alike  in  the  rapidity 
with  which  they  added  book  to  book,  but  they  were 
very  unlike  in  the  literary  value  of  their  products. 
Cooper  was  one  of  the  most  unequal  of  writers.  Some  of 
his  works  are  so  tedious  and  so  barren  of  all  literary 
charm  as  to  be  quite  unreadable.  Of  his  thirty-two  novels, 
ten  are  of  this  character. 

In  the  mind  of  Washington  Irving  we  discovered  three 
chief  interests— first,  the  Dutch  traditions  of  New  York; 
second,  the  historic  and  literary  associations  of  England  ; 
third,  the  romance  of  Spain.  These  three  subjects  became 
the  centres  for  three  groups  of  books.  The  differences  of 
subject  in  the  works  of  Irving  and  of  Cooper  correspond  to 
the  different  characters  of  the  two  men.  Irving  was  gen- 
tle, scholarly,  refined;  Cooper  elemental,  forceful,  pas- 
sionate, loving  the  vast  ocean  and  the  endless  forest.  The 
serene  days  of  Irving  contrast  strongly  with  the  stormy, 
quarrelsome  life  of  Cooper. 

After  eliminating  the  ten  worthless  books  from  Cooper’s 
collection,  it  will  be  found  that  ten  of  the  remaining 
twenty-two  novels  are  sea-stories,  and  eight  are  tales  of  the 
wilderness.  Two  have  the  Revolution  for  their  subject — 
The  Spy  and  Lionel  Lincoln — and  two  are  devoted  to  old 
colonial  life  in  New  York — Satanstoe  and  The  Chain- 
hearer . 

Cooper’s  Style. — Cooper  wrote  too  much  to  write 
everything  well.  He  composed  in  great  haste,  and  many 


54 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  his  works  betray  such  carelessness  as  to  deserve  to  be 
called  slovenly.  The  faults  of  his  style  are  so  glaring  as 
to  need  comment  before  his  merits : 

1.  His  most  venial  fault  is  his  careless  and  blundering 
English.  He  ignores  the  nicer  distinctions  of  language. 
He  confuses  his  grammar,  and  frequently  strains  the  mean- 
ings of  words  or  chooses  the  wrong  word  when  the  right 
one  is  close  at  hand. 

2.  His  worst  fault  is  his  lack  of  clearness  and  of  method 
in  the  evolution  of  a plot. 

(a)  Cooper  does  not  impress  us,  as  the  great  romancers 
do,  with  the  sense  of  probability  in  the  incidents  of  his 
story.  Worse  than  that,  the  plot  has  no  unity  nor  centre. 
It  does  not  work  up  to  a natural  climax,  nor  bring  its 
characters  and  events  to  a natural  close.  We  demand  a 
continuity  of  interest  in  a romance,  and  a clear  develop- 
ment of  its  plot  through  the  various  incidents  of  its  prog- 
ress. Cooper  often  does  not  appear  to  have  foreseen  the 
end  of  his  books  from  the  beginning.  He  is  driven  to  in- 
troduce new  characters  and  digress  upon  strange  incidents 
in  order  to  dispose  finally  of  his  romance  and  successfully 
conclude  the  plot.  Hence  the  contradictions  and  incon- 
gruities which  abound  in  his  books. 

( b ) His  verboseness  is  a minor  defect  in  his  art  which 
adds  to  the  tediousness  of  his  story-telling. 

3.  An  intermediate  fault  is  his  polemic  spirit.  He  is  as 
controversial  as  the  first  Puritans.  His  criticisms  of 
American  manners  and  of  our  national  tendencies  in- 
truded themselves  into  all  his  books.  Sometimes  they 
were  so  light  as  to  be  pardonable ; sometimes  So  violent 
and  continuous  as  to  be  offensive.  Cooper  was  engaged 
during  the  last  years  of  his  life  in  a war  with  his  country, 
which  brought  down  upon  him  the  hatred  of  the  press  and 
the  ill-opinion  of  his  fellow-countrymen.  Several  of  his 
poorer  books,  as  the  Monikins  and  Home  as  Found , were  ser- 
mons preached  to  the  American  people.  His  protests 


THE  NEW  YORK  WRITERS. 


55 


were  too  angry  and  ill-conceived  to  be  effectual,  and  the 
books  which  contained  them  are  now  seldom  read. 

Cooper’s  merits,  like  his  defects,  are  quickly  discovered. 

1.  Narrative  Power. — There  is  a native  force  in  Cooper 
which  captures  the  reader  and  holds  his  attention,  in  the 
best  books,  to  the  end.  All  men  love  a good  story-teller. 
Cooper’s  vigorous  imagination  and  fresh,  lively  way  of  tell- 
ing his  story  is  the  secret  of  his  popularity  with  the  masses. 
His  characters  are  often  weak.  He  cares  more  for  the  rush 
of  incident  than  for  the  slower  sketching  of  minute  de- 
tails of  character.  Hence  the  cause  of  much  of  the  adverse 
criticism  upon  his  works.  The  old  novel  of  adventure  is  a 
little  o it  of  fashion.  The  wholesome  battlepieces  of 
Cooper  have  given  place  to  studies  of  society  and  exercises 
in  the  analysis  of  motive  and  of  character.  For  these 
things  Cooper  had  neither  genius  nor  knowledge.  But  in 
the  kind  of  fiction  that  he  chose  to  write  he  has  but  one 
superior,  and  that  one  is  the  greatest  of  the  world’s 
romancers — Sir  Walter  Scott. 

2.  Enthusiasm  for  Nature. — Cooper’s  style  is  everywhere 
assisted  and  elevated  by  the  author’s  genuine  enthusiasm 
for  wild  nature.  He  is  entirely  national  in  his  descrip- 
tions of  the  lonely  and  magnificent  scenery  of  his  country. 
The  ocean  and  the  forest  are  the  two  worlds  which  his 
fancy  explored.  In  the  first  he  created  the  novel  of  the 
sea ; in  the  second,  as  Lowell  wrote  of  him — 

“ He  has  drawn  you  one  character,  though,  that  is  new ; 

One  wild  flower  lie’s  plucked  that  is  wet  with  the  dew 
Of  this  fresh  Western  World.”  * 

Drake  and  Halleck. — There  is  no  more  pleasing  epi- 
sode in  the  history  of  our  literature  than  the  friendship  of 
the  two  poets,  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  (1795-1820)  and 
Fitz-Greene  Halleck  (1790-1867).  The  former  was  a 
native  of  New  York  City  ; he  was  born  in  1795.  Halleck 


* Leather-Stocking. 


56 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


was  five  years  older,  and  was  born  at  Guilford,  Conn.  In 
1811,  Halleck  became  a resident  of  New  York,  and  found 
employment  in  a counting-room.  Two  years  later,  or  in 
the  spring  of  1813,  he  and  Drake  met,  and  their  friendship 
began. 

Drake’s  fame  rests  entirely  upon  one  poem.  Cooper, 
Drake,  and  Halleck  had  been  talking  about  the  Ameri- 
can rivers  and  the  poetry  which  might  be  written  about 
them.  Drake’s  thoughts  continued  to  dwell  upon  the 
theme,  and  his  quick  fancy  conceived  and  finished  the 
delicate  poem,  The  Culprit  Fay.  It  was  written  in  August, 
1816,  but  was  not  published  until  1819.  It  is  a dainty 
little  poem,  whose  melody  has  been  caught  from  Coleridge 
and  from  Moore.  Its  subject  is  in  the  land  of  faery, 
though  its  scene  is  in  the  Highlands  of  the  Hudson  or  in 
the  land  of  Rip  Van  Winkle.  The  Culprit  Fay  [faery]  has 
fallen  in  love  with  a mortal.  He  is  tried  and  sentenced  to 
purge  his  wings  with  a drop  from  the  glistening  arch  when 
“ the  sturgeon  leaps  in  the  bright  moonshine,”  and  to  re- 
illume his  flame-wood  lamp  with  the  last  faint  spark  from 
the  trail  of  a shooting  star. 

In  1819,  Drake  and  Halleck  formed  a literary  partner- 
ship, and  produced  a series  of  witty  and  satirical  poems 
called  “ The  Croaker  Papers.”  They  were  contributed 
anonymously  to  the  New  York  Evening  Post.  The  best 
known  of  Drake’s  pieces  in  the  “ Croaker  ” papers  is  The 
American  Flag>  beginning  with  the  lines : 

“ When  Freedom,  from  her  mountain-height, 

Unfurled  her  standard  to  the  air, 

She  tore  the  azure  robe  of  night 
And  set  the  stars  of  glory  there.” 

Drake  died  of  consumption  Sept.  21,  1820.  His  death 
was  mourned  by  Halleck  in  one  of  the  most  precious 
poems  of  our  literature. 

In  1819,  when  Drake  published  The  Culprit  Fay , Halleck 


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57 


printed  his  longest  poem,  Fanny , an  amusing  satire  on  the 
fashions  and  follies  of  the  time.  After  a trip  to  Europe, 
Halleck  published  the  few  fine  lyrics  that  have  given  him 
his  reputation,  Alnwick  Castle , Burns , and  Marco  Bozzaris . 
After  the  death  of  John  Jacob  Astor,  in  whose  office  he 
had  been  for  many  years,  Halleck  retired  to  his  native 
Guilford.  He  continued  to  write  verses  of  small  merit 
until  his  death,  in  1867. 

Neither  Drake  nor  Halleck  were  writers  of  the  first  order. 
Drake  gave  promise  of  excellence  in  melody  and  in  imagi- 
nation which  was  destined  to  remain  unfulfilled.  Halleck 
is  signalized  by  directness  and  energy  of  language,  bright 
fancy,  and  pleasant  satire.  To  illustrate  the  service  that 
they  rendered  to  our  literature  it  is  only  necessary  to  com- 
pare for  a moment  the  tedious,  prosy  rhymes  of  Barlow, 
Dwight,  and  the  Revolutionists  with  the  gay  and  pungent 
verses  of  “ Croaker  and  Co.” 

William  Cullen  Bryant  (1794-1878). — As  1809,  the 
year  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker,  is  the  first  date  in  our  true 
American  prose,  so  1817  is  the  first  date  in  our  true  Amer- 
ican poetry.  It  is  the  year  of  the  publication,  in  the  North 
American  Review , of  Bryant’s  “ Thanatopsis.”  Bryant  is  to 
our  native  imaginative  poetry  what  Irving  is  to  our  native 
prose.  His  fame  does  not  depend,  like  Drake’s,  upon  a 
single  poem,  nor,  like  Halleck’s,  upon  a few  successful 
lyrics,  but  is  genuine  and  secure  because  it  is  the  reward  of 
a long  and  complete  literary  career  marked  by  a series  of 
poems  of  uniform  excellence.  The  products  of  his  life 
need  no  apology  nor  recommendation,  even  when  judged 
by  high  critical  standards.  Where  other  poets  had  suc- 
ceeded by  accident,  he  succeeded  by  sheer  poetic  genius. 
Where  others  in  earlier  years  had  contentedly  copied  foreign 
writers  or  painfully  felt  their  way  toward  some  degree  of  orig- 
inality, Bryant  pursued  his  solitary  way  absorbed  in  the  con- 
templation of  American  scenery  and  creating  poems  which 
nobly  expressed  the  depth  and  dignity  of  his  character. 


58 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


William  Cullen  Bryant  was  born  in  Cummington, 
Mass.,  Nov.  3,  1794.  He  was  educated  for  two  years  at 
Williams  College.  He  studied  law,  and  for  a few  years 
practised  his  profession,  but  in  a half-hearted  way.  He 
deplored  the  necessity  that  forced  him  “ to  toil  for  the 
dregs  of  men,  and  scrawl  strange  words  with  the  barbarous 
pen  ” (“  Green  River  ”).  In  1825  he  removed  to  New  York, 
and  in  the  following  year  he  became  editor  of  the  Evening 
Post . From  1827  to  1829  he  was  associated  with  G.  C. 
Verplanck  and  R.  C.  Sands  in  the  writing  of  an 
“ Annual  ” called  The  Talisman . An  edition  of  his  poems 
was  published  in  England  in  1832  through  the  influence 
of  Washington  Irving.  In  1870-71  he  published  a note- 
worthy translation  of  the  Iliad  and  Odyssey.  He  died  on 
the  12th  of  June,  1878. 

Bryant’s  Early  Poems. — Like  many  another  poet, 
Bryant  began  rhyming  at  a tender  age.  In  his  father’s 
library  he  had  often  read  the  artificial  verses  of  Pope,  who 
was  then  the  favorite  poet  of  New  England  readers.  In 
1808  the  fourteen-year-old  boy  published,  in  the  style  of 
Pope,  a poem  called  The  Embargo.  It  was  a satire  upon 
Thomas  Jefferson  and  the  embargo  which  in  the  previous 
year  had  been  laid  upon  American  shipping.  The  verses 
are  of  no  value,  but  are  interesting  as  illustrating  the 
author’s  early  facility  in  poetic  composition. 

Thanatopsis  marks  the  beginning  of  our  poetry.  It  was 
published  in  the  North  American  Review  in  September, 
1817,  but  was  written  in  1812.  The  Greek  word  coined 
for  the  title  suggests  the  subject  of  the  poem — “ a vision  of 
death.”  The  author’s  thought  lingers  upon  the  soothing 
influences  of  nature,  and,  wandering  abroad  in  the  uni- 
verse, contemplates  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  generations  of 
men.  There  is  no  direct  mention  of  immortality  in  the 
poem ; only  the  stern  spectacle  of  the  present  life  and  its 
inevitable  end.  The  solemnity  and  maturity  of  the  poem 
are  unsurpassed  in  literature,  and  are  wonderful  as  emanat- 


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59 


in g from  a boy  of  seventeen.  The  style,  too,  sustains  the 
dignity  of  the  lofty  theme.  It  is  written  in  blank  verse, 
and  that  difficult  measure  has  never  been  more  skilfully 
and  powerfully  handled  by  any  American  poet. 

In  1821,  in  the  same  year  with  The  Spy  and  the  English 
edition  of  the  Sketch-Book , Bryant  published  a small  vol- 
ume, containing  his  longest  poem,  “The  Ages.”  Like 
“ Thanatopsis,”  it  is  a vision , but  this  time  of  the  pano- 
rama of  history.  Its  high-hearted  patriotism  is  its  most 
distinguished  mark. 

Bryant’s  Poetry. — Natural  scenery  was  Bryant’s  prin- 
cipal interest.  He  has  been  called  the  “ American  Words- 
worth,” because  his  love  of  nature  was  so  genuine  and  his 
descriptions  of  it  so  frequent.  His  landscapes  are  always 
American.  They  are  not  pictures  that  might  be  true  in 
any  land,  but  they  are  faithful  delineations  of  the  peculiar 
features  of  American  scenery.  He  is  most  successful 
when  describing  “ old  ocean’s  gray  and  melancholy  waste,” 
or  “ the  hills  rock-ribbed  and  ancient  as  the  sun,”  or  “ the 
dim  forest  crowded  with  old  oaks.”  His  finest  poems  are 
inspired  by  the  familiar  things  of  nature.  The  lines  “ To 
a Waterfowl,”  “ Green  River,”  “ The  Death  of  the  Flow- 
ers,” “ The  Evening  Wind,”  have  their  human  interest  and 
sympathy,  but  that  which  is  best  in  them  is  the  true  feel- 
ing for  even  the  humble  and  minute  in  nature.  The 
“ Song  of  Marion’s  Men  ” is  a delightful  account  of  the 
romantic  life  of  the  South  Carolina  Robin  Hood  and  his 
band,  but  it  was  the  love  of  the  forest,  “ the  good  green- 
wood,” that  prompted  Bryant  to  the  subject. 

Bryant  was  not  dramatic.  He  did  not  carefully  study 
character  nor  disturb  himself  with  problems  of  the  mind. 
He  had  no  gifts  as  a story-teller,  and  hence  the  principal 
fault  in  his  translation  of  Homer.  It  lacks  movement, 
variety,  and  energy. 

He  Wrote  some  patriotic  ballads  memorable  for  the  sin- 
cere love  of  liberty  which  burns  in  them.  Such  are 


60 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


“ Italy,”  “ Not  Yet,”  “ Greek  Partisan,”  and  “ The  Massa- 
cre at  Scio.” 

Nobility  of  subject  and  dignity  of  form,  characterize  the 
work  of  Bryant  in  all  periods  of  his  life.  The  dignity  of 
form  is  seen  at  its  best  in  his  masterly  use  of  the  ten- 
syllabled  unrhymed  line  which  we  call  blank  verse.  It  is 
used  with  splendid  effect  in  “ Thanatopsis,”  “ Forest 
Hymn,”  and  “ Antiquity  of  Freedom.” 

Amid  the  changes  of  literary  fashion  and  the  rise  of  new 
ideals  during  his  long  career,  Bryant  held  his  serene  course, 
developing  with  care  and  patience  a style  which,  though 
not  original,  was  well  adapted  to  the  needs  of  his  verse  and 
the  character  of  his  thought. 

One  fault  of  Bryant’s  poetry  is  its  preaching  tendency. 
He  does  not  sing,  as  poets  should,  with  no  afterthought. 
He  rarely  lets  a subject  go  without  appending  to  it  a moral. 
It  was  a consequence  of  his  early  New  England  training, 
an  effect  of  Puritanism  from  which  he  never  escaped. 

Bryant’s  mind  was  naturally  solemn  and  lofty.  His 
thought  was  sombre,  and  but  little  touched  with  those 
closer  sympathies  which  win  the  hearts  of  men.  He 
kindled  no  enthusiasms,  but  he,  first  among  our  writers, 
upheld  pure  ideals  of  the  poet’s  task,  and  amid  all  the  dis- 
tractions of  his  political  and  practical  life  never  departed 
from  the  high  and  earnest  purposes  of  literature. 

Minor  Writers. — N.  P.  Willis  (1806-67)  made  his 
home  in  New  York,  and  in  journalism  and  in  society  aided 
in  the  development  of  literature.  His  own  writings  are 
almost  completely  neglected.  He  wrote  a few  sacred 
poems  and  a number  of  books  of  travel,  of  which  the  best, 
perhaps,  is  Pencillings  hy  the  Way. 

Geo.  P.  Morris  (1802-64)  and  Samuel  Woodworth 
(1785-1842)  founded  in  1823  the  New  York  Mirror , for 
twenty  years  a useful  literary  journal.  Morris  wrote  the 
popular  “Woodman,  Spare  that  Tree,”  and  Woodworth 
the  equally  popular  “ Old  Oaken  Bucket.” 


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61 


Payne  and  the  Dramatists. — John  Howard  Payne 
was  born  in  New  York  City,  1792;  died  in  Tunis,  Africa, 
1852.  He  was  both  actor  and  playwright.  Of  the  great 
number  of  his  plays,  two  only  are  now  acted : Brutus  and 
Charles  II.  His  fame  is,  however,  perpetual  by  reason  of 
the  song  of  “ Home,  Sweet  Home,”  which  formed  part  of 
his  play  of  The  Maid  of  Milan. 

The  first  American  comedy  produced  upon  the  stage 
was  The  Contrast , performed  in  New  York  in  1786.  It  was 
the  first  work  of  Royall  Tyler  (1757-1826). 

The  list  of  American  dramas  is  brief  and  uninteresting. 
Compositions  like  Metamora  (J.  A.  Stone)  and  The  Gladi- 
ator (R.  M.  Bird)  have  no  place  in  literature. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Awakening  of  New  England. 

New  York  did  not  long  continue  to  direct  the  literature 
it  had  begun.  The  brilliant  writers  who  gathered  about 
Irving  and  Bryant  left  no  successors.  Halleck  and 
Bryant,  like  others  of  the  New  Yorkers,  were  too  deep 
in  business  cares  to  make  literature  a serious  occupa- 
tion. The  force  which  had  produced  the  first  forms  of 
imaginative  prose  and  poetry,  and  fairly  started  a national 
literature,  had  apparently  spent  itself.  About  the  year 
1832,  New  England  became  the  seat  of  a vigorous  lite- 
rary life,  and  Massachusetts  the  home  of  the  most  promis- 
ing men  of  letters  in  America.  Literature  had  again  trans- 
ferred its  capital,  from  New  York  to  Boston. 

The  general  causes  of  this  new  stir  of  life  in  New  Eng- 
land and  this  awakening  of  intelligence  were — 

1.  The  Conclusion  of  the  Revolution  had  left  the 
country  at  peace,  and  by  1820  it  had  recovered  from  the 
exhaustion  of  the  long  struggle,  and  awakened  to  a sense 
of  national  unity  and  power,  and  to  a feeling  of  pride  in  its 
successful  history.  A national  literature  could  not  exist 
without  national  unity  and  a sense  of  national  responsi- 
bility. High-hearted  patriotism  and  devotion  to  the  Re- 
public found  fervent  expression  in  the  orations  of  Webster 
and  the  essays  of  the  scholars. 

2.  Changes  of  Religion. — Immediately  before  the  Rev- 
olution the  religious  zeal  of  the  Puritans  had  subsided  into 

62 


THE  A WAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


63 


dulness  or  indifference.  A new  creed  was  slowly  spread- 
ing through  New  England.  It  was  Unitarianism.  It  was 
a natural  reaction  from  the  sombre  severity  of  Puritan- 
ism. The  sectarian  narrowness  of  the  religious  teachers  of 
the  colonies  had  confined  Christianity  to  a few  select  be- 
lievers in  a single  system  of  theology.  Their  intolerance 
would  not  permit  any  liberality  of  thought.  The  laws 
were  administered  by  clerical  authority.  The  unity  of  the 
colony  was  maintained  by  the  strict  rules  of  the  Church, 
i Only  church-members  could  be  admitted  as  “ freemen.” 
After  the  Revolution  the  same  discipline  could  no  longer 
be  applied  to  the  changed  conditions  of  social  life.  The 
authority  of  the  leaders  of  the  Church  was  no  longer  rec- 
ognized. The  defiance  of  the  people  to  the  old  parental 
form  of  colonial  government  resulted  in  increased  im- 
morality and  irreligion. 

Under  the  old  religion  gayety  had  been  repressed  ; mirth 
and  enjoyment  were  regarded  as  things  of  evil.  The  strug- 
gle for  a new  belief  was  the  attempt  to  substitute  joy  for 
gloom  and  tolerance  for  bigotry.  In  the  controversy 
between  the  old  and  the  new,  the  mental  powers  were 
aroused  and  stimulated.  Harvard  College  became  Uni- 
tarian, and  the  pulpits  of  Unitarian  churches  were  filled 
with  the  best  scholars  and  writers  of  the  time. 

3.  Communication  with  Europe. — The  eloquence 
and  originality  of  the  leaders  of  the  New  England  revolt 
c?’eated,  in  Eastern  Massachusetts  particularly,  a new  and 
vivid  sense  of  the  duty  of  life  and  the  dignity  of  art.  In 
1820,  Edward  Everett  returned  from  Europe  and  told 
the  people  of  Boston  of  the  treasures  of  art  and  wisdom 
that  lay  in  the  literature  of  Germany.  In  1823,  Channing, 
the  chief  of  the  Unitarians,  in  his  Remarks  on  a National 
Literature , made  an  eloquent  plea  for  the  study  of  French 
and  German  writers,  in  order  that  our  literature  might 
be  broadened  into  an  independence  that  would  place  it 
on  terms  of  equality  with  the  literature  of  Great  Britain. 


64 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Goethe  was  then  in  the  maturity  of  his  powers,  and 
Coleridge  was  arousing  England  with  the  new  philosophy 
of  Germany.  Enthusiastic  study  of  German  thought  be- 
gan at  once  in  New  England.  Many  translations  were 
made  by  Ripley,  Dwight,  and  Hedge.  The  philosophical 
thought  of  Germany  soon  began  to  modify  the  Unitarian- 
ism  of  Channing  and  his  followers. 

Not  only  was  the  criticism  of  Germany  received,  but  also 
the  new  poetry  of  England  was  eagerly  read.  A chain  of 
causes  had  brought  about  in  England  a literary  revolution. 
The  old  favorite  of  the  colonists,  Alexander  Pope,  was 
deposed  from  his  place  at  the  head  of  literature.  What 
had  been  artificial  became  natural.  Scott,  Byron, 
Shelley,  and  Wordsworth  belonged  to  the  new  school. 
The  world  was  full  of  new  energy,  and  the  newly-awakened 
spirit  of  New  England  was  prompt  to  take  its  place  in  the 
progress  of  the  time. 

Groups  of  Writers. — The  new  spiritual  and  intel- 
lectual life  of  New  England,  produced  mainly  by  the  three 
causes  just  named — the  sense  of  national  pride,  the  rise  of 
a liberal  theology,  and  the  influence  of  the  literatures  of 
Germany  and  England — expressed  itself  in  three  groups 
of  authors : First,  the  political  group,  including  the  great 
orators ; second,  the  poets  and  theologians,  belonging  to 
the  early  days  of  separation  in  the  Church;  third,  the 
scholastic  group,  including  the  Concord  writers  and  the 
poets,  novelists,  and  essayists  who  completed  the  reforms 
of  the  Unitarians. 

The  first  group  belongs  rather  to  history  than  to  litera- 
ture, but  some  of  its  names  have  too  much  literary  value  to 
be  omitted  from  even  a hasty  survey.  The  second  and 
third  groups  represent  the  true  literary  characters  who, 
together  with  the  New  York  writers,  are  the  creators  of  our 
national  literature. 

The  new  intellectual  life  of  New  England  thus  produced 
and  thus  expressed  had  also  three  epochs , or  three  chapters 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


65 


of  history.  They  were — (1)  Unitarianism,  (2)  Transcen- 
dentalism, (3)  The  antislavery  movement.  The  first  was 
led  by  Channing,  the  second  by  Emerson,  the  third  (in 
literature)  by  Whittier.  They  were  successive  stages  of 
one  movement  of  humanity.  The  first  epoch  is  repre- 
sented by  the  second  group  of  writers — the  second  and 
third  epochs  by  the  third  group. 

The  First  Group  stands  apart  from  the  main  literary 
current  of  the  time,  and  may  therefore  be  quickly  disposed 
of.  To  it  belong  the  great  orators  and  statesmen  whose 
eloquence  adorns  our  literature,  and  whose  wisdom  digni- 
fies our  political  history.  Prominent  among  them  were 
Henry  Clay,  Daniel  Webster,  Alexander  Hill  Eve- 
rett, Edward  Everett,  and  Rufus  Choate.  Contempo- 
rary with  them  in  the  South  were  Robert  Y.  Hayne  and 
John  C.  Calhoun. 

These  men  belonged  to  an  age  of  unexampled  political 
development.  The  new  republic  was  expanding  across 
the  continent.  New  States  were  rapidly  admitted,  and 
the  planting  of  the  wilderness  was  advanced  by  ever-in- 
creasing armies  of  settlers.  Jefferson  in  1803  had  pur- 
chased Louisiana,  and  thereby  given  to  the  United  States 
the  key  to  the  Mississippi  and  the  granary  of  the  West. 
In  the  midst  of  this  prosperity  the  nation  experienced  its 
first  strain.  Sectional  dispute  and  party  quarrels  arose 
over  questions  of  slavery,  tariff,  and  States’  rights.  The 
champion  of  “ nullification  ” was  Calhoun ; the  defend- 
ers of  Federal  principles  were,  above  all  others,  Clay  and 
Webster. 

Henry  Clay  (1777-1852)  was  one  of  America’s  greatest 
orators.  But  the  power  of  his  oratory  resided  in  his  per- 
sonal force  and  magnetism ; his  speeches  had  very  little 
literary  value.  His  genius  was  great,  but  unschooled. 
His  character  was  beyond  reproach.  He  was  the  idol  of 
his  party  (the  Whigs),  and,  if  not  always  safe  as  a leader, 
was  yet  always  inspired  by  the  truest  patriotism. 

5 


66 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Daniel  Webster  was  bom  in  Salisbury,  N.  H.,  Jan. 
18,  1782.  His  education  began  at  the  Exeter  Academy, 
was  continued  under  the  tuition  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Wood, 
and  was  completed  in  Dartmouth  College,  whence  he  was 
graduated  in  1801.  After  leaving  Dartmouth,  Webster  sup- 
ported himself  and  helped  his  brother  through  college  by 
teaching  school  at  Fryeburg,  Me.  In  1804,  he  entered  the 
law-office  of  Christopher  Gore  in  Boston,  and  soon  after 
began  the  practice  of  his  profession.  In  1812,  he  was 
elected  to  Congress.  His  first  political  act  was  a criticism 
of  the  Embargo.  At  the  expiration  of  his  second  term  in 
Congress  (March  4,  1817)  he  retired  to  private  life,  when 
his  law-practice  increased  greatly.  His  first  important  case 
was  his  famous  defence  of  Dartmouth  College  against  the 
encroachments  of  the  New  Hampshire  legislature.  This 
was  in  1818.  In  1820  he  delivered  a magnificent  me- 
morial oration  upon  the  second  centennial  of  the  Landing 
of  the  Pilgrims.  His  oration  in  1825  at  the  laying  of  the 
corner-stone  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument  placed  him  in  the  . 
first  rank  of  the  orators  of  the  world.  In  1826  he  deliv- 
ered his  eulogy  upon  Adams  and  Jefferson.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  he  was  elected  to  the  Senate.  The  “ Tariff  of 
1828  ” led  to  the  announcement  of  the  principles  of  nulli- 
fication by  Calhoun  and  the  public  men  of  South  Carolina. 

In  December,  1829,  a resolution  limiting  the  sale  of  public 
lands  was  introduced  into  the  Senate  by  Samuel  A.  Foote 
of  Connecticut.  In  the  debate  over  this  resolution  Robert 
Y.  Hayne  of  South  Carolina  attacked  the  New  England 
States.  On  the  26th  and  27th  of  January,  1830,  Webster 
replied  in  the  greatest  speech  ever  delivered  in  this  coun- 
try, and  perhaps  the  greatest  in  history.  It  is  best  known 
as  “ The  Reply  to  Hayne.”  In  the  same  year  he  made  his 
famous  speech  on  the  trial  of  the  murderers  of  Joseph 
White.  He  was  Secretary  of  State  under  President  Harrison 
and  under  President  Fillmore.  He  was  twice  defeated  for 
the  nomination  to  the  Presidency.  His  last  great  speech 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


67 

was  on  the  “ Fugitive-Slave  Law,”  in  1850.  He  died  at 
Marshfield,  Mass.,  Oct.  24,  1852. 

Webster’s  Genius. — Webster  stands  in  American  his- 
tory as  the  representative  of  the  grand  idea  of  Union.  All 
his  powers  were  devoted  to  the  illustration  of  “ the  neces- 
sity and  the  nobility  of  the  Union  of  the  States.”  His  ora- 
tions were  the  mightiest  of  the  literary  influences  that 
made  the  sentiment  of  Union  and  the  belief  in  the  grand- 
eur of  our  nationality  so  much  a part  of  the  consciousness 
of  the  American  people  that  the  country  was  carried  safely 
through  the  crisis  of  the  Civil  War.  Webster’s  profound 
love  of  country,  and  his  prophetic  vision  of  the  immense 
future  of  America,  gave  a philosophical  value  to  every  ora- 
tion and  a weight  of  meaning  to  every  sentence.  He  dig- 
nified every  subject  by  his  broad,  popular,  and  impressive 
treatment  of  it.  His  orations  have  always  a wide  horizon ; 
they  concern  “ the  distant  generations  ” as  well  as  the 
present  listeners. 

Webster’s  style  was  simple  but  majestic.  It  was  entirely 
his  own,  and  expressed  his  imposing  personality.  Its 
chief  features  were — (1)  clearness  of  vision,  (2)  accurate 
combination,  (3)  logical  argument,  (4)  forcible  illustra- 
tion. 

Unity  was  as  much  the  key-note  of  Webster’s  style  as  of 
his  thought.  His  clearness,  freshness,  and  force  were  the 
outcome  of  the  extreme  simplicity  of  his  style.  Rhetoric 
never  prevented  the  logical  development  of  his  argument. 

1 The  Everetts. — Alexander  Hill  Everett  (1792- 
1847)  was  graduated  from  Harvard  College,  studied  law 
under  John  Quincy  Adams,  and  went  to  Russia,  in  1809,  as 
secretary  to  the  legation.  He  was  minister  to  Spain  1825-29, 
after  which  he  became  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  North 
American  Review , which  had  been  previously  conducted  by 
his  brother  Edward.  He  published  Europe  ; or,  A General 
Survey  of  the  Political  Position  of  the  Principal  Powers  (1822), 
America  ; or,  A General  Survey  of  the  Political  Situation  of  the 


68 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Several  Powers  of  the  Western  Continent  (1827),  Critical  and 
Miscellaneous  Essays  (1845),  and  Poems  (1845).  His  best 
essays  were  contributed  to  the  North  American  Review . 

Edward  Everett  was  born  in  Dorchester,  Mass.,  April 
11,  1794,  and  died  in  Boston,  Jan.  15,  1865.  He  was  grad- 
uated from  Harvard  with  the  highest  honors  in  1811.  In 
1813  he  succeeded  the  Rev.  J.  S.  Buckminster  as  pastor  of 
the  Brattle  Square  Church,  Boston.  In  1814  he  was  ap- 
pointed professor  of  Greek  literature  at  Harvard.  He 
then  went  abroad  and  studied  in  foreign  universities,  par- 
ticularly in  Gottingen.  He  returned  to  America  in  1820 
and  became  editor  of  the  North  American  Review . He  had 
been  the  most  eloquent  of  preachers  ; he  now  became  the 
most  inspiring  of  teachers.  The  first  interest  in  German 
literature  proceeded  from  him.  In  1824  he  was  elected  to 
Congress,  and  kept  his  seat  ten  years.  In  1835  he  became 
governor  of  Massachusetts,  and  “ at  the  next  election  was 
defeated  by  only  one  vote  out  of  more  than  one  hundred 
thousand.”  He  was  appointed,  through  the  influence  of 
Webster,  minister  to  England.  He  received  honorary  de- 
grees from  both  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  From  1846  till 
1849  he  was  president  of  Harvard  College.  In  1852  he 
succeeded  Daniel  Webster  as  Secretary  of  State.  He  was 
instrumental  in  purchasing  Mount  Vernon,  and  for  that 
purpose  delivered  a series  of  lectures,  the  proceeds  of 
which  amounted  to  ninety  thousand  dollars. 

Everett  in  Literature. — Two  of  Mr.  Everett’s  poems 
are  still  remembered  : they  are  “ Alaric  the  Visigoth”  and 
“ Santa  Croce.”  He  published  Orations  and  Speeches  on 
Various  Occasions  (1836),  Importance  of  Practical  Education 
and  Useful  Knowledge  (1836).  More  than  a hundred  arti- 
cles are  contained  in  the  three  published  volumes  of  his 
orations.  His  first  famous  address  was  in  1824,  “ On  the 
Circumstances  Favorable  to  the  Progress  of  Literature  in 
America.”  At  its  close  occurred  the  memorable  apostro- 
phe to  La  Fayette,  who  was  the  guest  of  the  evening. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


69 


Everett  was  very  successful  in  popularizing  the  discov- 
eries of  science  and  the  researches  of  history.  His  oratory 
was  of  a different  type  from  Webster’s.  Everett’s  was 
the  oratory  of  elegance — Webster’s,  of  force.  The  chief  char- 
acteristic of  Everett’s  mind  was  just  judgment.  His  rhe- 
torical grace  is  fine,  but  artificial.  The  smoothness  and 
symmetry  of  his  productions  are  the  natural  outcome  of 
his  thorough  scholarship.  “ His  style,  with  matchless 
flexibility,  rises  and  falls  with  his  subject,  and  is  alternately 
easy,  vivid,  elevated,  ornamented,  or  picturesque,  adapting 
itself  to  the  dominant  mood  of  the  mind  as  an  instrument 
responds  to  the  touch  of  a master’s  hand  ” (Hillard). 

Everett  did  not  possess  that  highest  art,  which  is  the  con- 
cealment of  art.  The  reader  is  painfully  conscious  that 
the  author  is  trying  to  say  something  brilliant.  His  sen- 
tences are  prepared  with  labored  care.  They  are  not  spon- 
taneous, like  Webster’s,  but  diligently  studied.  Everett 
wrote  with  his  eye  upon  the  style  rather  than  upon  the 
thought.  Another  defect  is  his  want  of  intellectual  depth 
and  vigor. 

Rufus  Choate  was  born  in  Essex,  Mass.,  Oct.  1,  1799, 
and  died  in  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  July  13,  1859.  He  was 
graduated  at  Dartmouth  in  1819.  He  was  confirmed  in 
his  intention  to  study  law  by  hearing  Webster’s  speech 
in  the  Dartmouth  College  case.  He  entered  the  law-office 
of  William  Wirt.  In  1841  he  was  elected  to  Webster’s 
place  in  the  United  States  Senate.  Choate  was  deeply 
learned  in  the  Greek  language  and  literature.  “ In  many 
ways  he  was  the  most  scholarly  of  all  American  public 
men.”  His  wide  reading  had  refined  a character  which 
was,  by  nature,  gentle  and  kindly.  His  writings  have  been 
collected  in  two  volumes  by  S.  G.  Brown,  with  a memoir. 
His  greatest  effort  was  his  eulogy  upon  Daniel  Webster. 

His  knowledge  of  the  resources  of  the  English  language 
was  almost  unequalled.  His  style,  while  not  a good  model 
for  imitation,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  to  study.  Its 


70 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


most  noticeable  feature  is  its  long  sentences.  Choate’s 
skill  in  speaking  conducted  his  hearers  safely  through 
all  the  balanced  parts  of  these  interminable  sentences. 
Often  a single  sentence  would  contain  four  hundred  words, 
and  some  even  contained  seven  hundred.  The  chief 
causes  of  these  long  sentences  were — first,  the  author’s  ful- 
ness of  information.  He  crowded  his  paragraphs  with  the 
knowledge  with  which  his  own  mind  was  so  richly  stored. 
In  the  second  place,  his  fondness  for  adjectives  caused  his 
sentences  to  outrun  all  proper  limits.  Whatever  the  sub- 
ject under  discussion,  Choate  drew  from  his  unlimited 
vocabulary  the  qualifying  words  which  would  accurately 
define  its  character.  It  is  said  that  in  a simple  case  relat- 
ing to  the  theft  of  some  harness  he  described  the  missing 
articles  as  “ safe,  sound,  secure,  substantial,  second-hand, 
second-rate  harness.” 

The  Southern  Orators. — Robert  Y.  Hayne  (1791- 
1839)  was  a native  of  South  Carolina.  He  took  a vigorous 
part  in  the  nullification  controversy  and  in  the  opposition 
to  the  protective  system.  In  1830  he  became  involved  in 
a debate  with  Webster  upon  the  principles  of  the  Constitu- 
tion and  the  rights  of  States,  which  elicited  from  Webster 
his  famous  “ Reply  to  Hayne.”  * 

John  C.  Calhoun  (1782-1850)  was  the  most  eloquent 
orator  and  leading  debater  of  the  South.  He  entered  Yale 
College  in  1802.  He  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  1807. 
In  1811  he  entered  the  House  of  Representatives.  In  1817 
he  became  Secretary  of  War.  In  1824  he  was  elected 
Vice-President  of  the  United  States.  In  1832  he  was 
elected  to  the  Senate,  where  he  appeared  as  the  cham- 
pion of  nullification.  Every  great  political  measure  of 
his  time  received  his  careful  thought,  and  was  in  some 
measure  influenced  by  his  opinion.  His  eloquence  was 
clear,  direct,  and  energetic.  There  was,  too,  a moral  power 


* See  Paul  H.  Hayne,  p.  131. 


THE  A WAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


71 


in  his  life  which  commanded  the  respect  even  of  his  op- 
ponents. His  honesty  lent  authority  to  every  word  that 
he  spoke.  Edward  Everett  once  said  : “ Calhoun,  Clay, 
Webster!  I name  them  in  alphabetical  order.  What 
other  precedence  can  be  assigned  them?  Clay,  the  great 
leader;  Webster,  the  great  orator;  Calhoun,  the  great 
thinker.”  His  works  have  been  collected  in  six  volumes 
(1853-54). 

The  Second  Group  includes  the  early  poets  and  the 
first  theologians,  prior  to  1832. 

The  Early  Poets  were  contemporary  with  the  New 
York  writers.  They  show  signs  of  the  rising  interests  of 
New  England,  but  there  was  nothing  in  either  their 
thought  or  style  to  preserve  them  from  oblivion.  They 
have  the  credit  that  is  due  to  all  pioneers,  but  their  own 
poor  quality  cannot  keep  them  in  the  regard  of  the  world. 

1.  Washington  Allston  (1779-1843),  poet  and  painter, 
was  a power  for  culture  in  early  New  England.  He  was 
graduated  from  Harvard  College  in  1800,  in  his  twenty- 
first  year.  He  studied  art  in  Rome.  He  learned  from 
Coleridge  the  meaning  of  the  new  poetic  movements  of 
Germany  and  England.  In  art  he  was  our  first  great 
painter,  and  has  been  called,  because  of  his  ability  in 
coloring,  the  “ American  Titian.”  His  principal  literary 
works  were  The  Sylphs  of  the  Seasons  (1813)  and  Monaldi 
(1841). 

2.  Richard  Henry  Dana,  brother-in-law  of  Allston, 
was  born  at  Cambridge  in  1787,  and  died  in  Boston  1879. 
He  entered  Harvard,  but  did  not  graduate.  In  1814  he 
joined  the  Anthology  Club  of  Cambridge,  of  which  John 
Quincy  Adams  was  a member.  Under  the  auspices  of  this 
organization  The  North  American  Review  was  published ; 
the  first  number  appeared  in  May,  1815.  Dana  and  his 
cousin,  E.  T.  Channing,  became  joint  editors  of  the  Review 
in  1818.  The  Idle  Man,  a periodical  miscellany  of  stories, 
essays,  and  poems,  was  begun  by  Dana,  assisted  by  Bry- 


72 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ant  and  Allston,  in  1822.  Dana’s  best  work  was  his  long 
poem,  The  Buccaneer  (1827). 

Other  Poets. — James  Gates  Percival  (1795-1856),  a 
poor  poetaster,  John  Pierpont,  and  Charles  Sprague  con- 
tributed verses,  now  happily  forgotten,  to  the  growing  lite- 
rature of  New  England. 

In  Connecticut,  Hillhouse  and  Brainard  were  the 
poets. 

Two  women  won  fame  in  those  early  days.  Lydia 
Huntley  Sigourney  (1791-1865)  of  Connecticut  was  the 
American  favorite.  Maria  Gowen  Brooks  (Maria  del 
Occidente)  was  a writer  of  much  greater  force.  She  was 
born  in  Massachusetts  in  1795,  and  died  in  Cuba  in 
1845.  At  the  home  of  Southey,  in  Keswick,  England,  she 
wrote  part  of  her  principal  work,  Zophiel ; or , The  Bride 
of  Seven.  The  poem  does  not  merit  the  high  praise  it  re- 
ceived from  Southey  and  from  Lamb,  but  it  is  a remark- 
able performance.  It  is  founded  on  the  story  of  Sara  in 
the  book  of  Tobit.  It  is  the  love  of  a fallen  angel  for  a 
Hebrew  maiden. 

The  Theologians  who,  with  the  poets  mentioned 
above,  complete  the  second  group  of  writers  of  the  time  of 
the  New  England  awakening,  are  William  Ellery  Chan- 
ning,  Joseph  Stevens  Buckminster,  Orville  Dewey, 
Charles  Follen,  and  William  Ware.  The  Unitarian 
protest  took  definite  shape  under  the  direction  of  these 
men  about  1815. 

1.  Channing  was  born  in  Newport,  R.  I.,  April  7,  1780; 
died  in  Bennington,  Vt.,  October  2,  1842.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Harvard  College.  In  1803  he  took  charge  of  the 
Federal  Street  Church,  Boston.  His  literary  reputation 
began  with  his  contributions  to  the  North  American  Review. 
About  1815  he  was  recognized  as  leader  of  the  Unitarians. 
The  story  of  the  controversy  between  the  old  theology  and 
the  new,  and  the  history  of  the  rise  of  literary  interests  in 
New  England,  may  be  studied  in  the  volumes  of  his  ser- 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND . 


73 


mons  delivered  between  1815  and  1830.  “ From  the  high, 
old-fashioned  pulpit  his  face  beamed  down,  it  may  be  said, 
like  the  face  of  an  angel,  and  his  voice  floated  down  like 
a voice  from  higher  spheres.  It  was  a voice  of  rare  power 
and  attraction,  clear,  flowing,  melodious,  slightly  plaintive, 
so  as  curiously  to  catch  and  win  upon  the  hearer’s  sympa- 
thy. . . . Often,  too,  when  signs  of  physical  frailty  were 
apparent,  it  might  be  said  that  his  speech  was  watched 
and  waited  for  with  that  sort  of  hush  as  if  one  was  waiting 
to  catch  his  last  earthly  words.”  His  influence  was  great 
in  all  social  reforms,  as  well  as  in  literary  progress.  His 
best  literary  production  was  his  essay  on  the  “ Character 
and  Writings  of  John  Milton.” 

2.  J.  S.  Buckminster  (1784-1812)  restored  the  authority 
of  the  Greek  and  Roman  classics  in  education  and  litera- 
ture— an  authority  which  had  greatly  suffered  during  the 
Revolution.  His  library  of  ancient  authors  was  large,  and 
freely  open  to  young  students.  None  of  the  theologians, 
save  Channing  only,  exercised  so  great  an  influence  over 
the  moral  and  intellectual  life  of  New  England.  In  1809 
he  delivered  a famous  and  inspiring  address  before  the 
Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  of  Cambridge.  One  passage  in  it 
is  very  significant  as  a prophecy  of  the  new  literature 
which  was  then  just  about  to  appear.  “ Our  poets  and 
historians,”  he  said,  “ our  critics  and  orators,  the  men  of 
whom  posterity  are  to  stand  in  awe,  and  by  whom  they  are 
to  be  instructed,  are  yet  to  appear  among  us.  But,  if  we 
are  not  mistaken  in  the  signs  of  the  times,  the  genius  of 
our  literature  begins  to  show  symptoms  of  vigor  and  to 
meditate  a bolder  flight,  and  the  generation  which  is  to 
succeed  us  will  be  formed  on  better  models  and  leave  a 
brighter  track.” 

3.  Orville  Dewey  (1794-1882)  was  the  assistant  of  Dr. 
Channing  in  Boston.  His  lectures  on  the  “ Education  of 
the  Pluman  Race  ” and  on  “ The  Problem  of  Human  Life  ” 
were  very  successful, 


74 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


4.  Charles  Pollen  was  bom  in  Romrod,  Germany,  in 
1796.  He  had  been  professor  of  civil  law  in  the  University 
of  Basel.  But  the  Prussian  government  demanded  that 
he  should  be  surrendered  to  “ justice  ” for  the  crime  of 
teaching  revolutionary  doctrines.  He  escaped  to  America 
and  was  made  professor  of  German  at  Harvard.  He  lost 
his  place  through  his  devotion  to  the  antislavery  cause. 
In  1836  he  was  ordained  a Unitarian  clergyman.  He 
lost  his  life  in  1840  on  the  steamer  “ Lexington,”  which 
took  fire  on  Long  Island  Sound. 

5.  William  Ware  (1797-1852)  came  of  a distinguished 
family  of  clergymen.  His  father,  Henry  Ware,  was  Hollis 
professor  of  divinity  at  Harvard.  His  brother,  Henry 
Ware,  Jr.,  was  professor  of  pulpit  eloquence  in  the  same 
university. 

William  Ware  wrote  two  admirable  historical  novels, 
full  of  classical  learning — Zenobia , and  its  sequel,  Aurelian. 
The  latter  describes  the  persecution  of  the  Christians  in 
Rome. 

The  Third  Group. — About  the  year  1815  the  Uni- 
tarian movement  in  Massachusetts  definitely  began.  It 
culminated  about  1832.  To  the  years  between  1815  and 
1832  belong,  for  the  most  part,  the  writers  of  the  second 
group. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  the  Concord  writers,  and  the 
antislavery  workers  belong  to  the  third  group,  and  beyond 
them  are  the  poets,  historians,  essayists,  and  novelists  who 
made  rich  our  literature  from  1832  until  the  outbreak  of 
the  Civil  War. 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. — Emerson  is  the  most  im- 
portant figure  in  our  literature.  He  wrote  in  both  prose 
and  poetry,  but  was  most  successful  in  the  former.  He  was 
a philosopher  and  a teacher.  He  taught  the  high  ideals  of 
pure  living  and  lofty  intelligence,  and  administered  the 
best  lessons  of  fortitude  and  self-reliance.  Others  have 
excelled  him  in  literary  skill  and  in  power  of  imagination, 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


75 


but  Emerson’s  name  is,  for  wise  thoughtfulness  and  far- 
reaching  influence,  the  brightest  in  the  history  of  our 
literature. 

Emerson’s  Ancestry. — Emerson  came  of  a long  line  of 
scholars  and  preachers.  His  grandfather,  William  Emer- 
son, was  the  heroic  pastor  of  Concord  who  urged  his  flock 
on  the  19th  of  April,  1775,  “ to  stand  their  ground.”  His 
father,  also  William  Emerson,  was  editor  from  1805  to 
1811  of  The  Monthly  Anthology , the  journal  of  the  Anthol- 
ogy Club,  of  which  Mr.  Emerson  was  vice-president.  Out 
of  the  Monthly  Anthology  grew  the  famous  North  American 
Review , and  out  of  the  Anthology  Club  Library  grew  the 
Boston  Athenaeum. 

Education. — Emerson  was  born  May  25,  1803,  in  Bos- 
ton, “ within  a kite-string  of  the  birthplace  of  Benjamin 
Franklin.”  He  was  sent  to  the  Boston  Latin  School  in 
1813.  In  1817  he  entered  Harvard  College,  where  he  had 
a struggle  with  poverty,  and  came  under  the  influence  of 
Edward  Everett.  He  neglected  mathematics,  but  read 
widely  in  literature.  He  was  graduated  in  1821.  During 
the  next  three  years  lie  assisted  his  brother  in  school- 
teaching. Having  saved  from  two  to  three  thousand  dol- 
lars by  this  means,  he  entered  Cambridge  Divinity  School 
in  1825  to  study  for  the  ministry.  At  this  time  he  was 
strongly  influenced  by  W.  E.  Channing.  In  1829  he  suc- 
ceeded Henry  Ware,  Jr.,  in  the  charge  of  the  Second 
Church  of  Boston. 

Great  political  changes  were  maturing  in  1832.  Thomas 
Jefferson  and  John  Adams,  the  last  statesmen  of  the 
Revolution,  had  died  on  the  same  day  in  1826.  The  des- 
perate controversy  between  Federal  unity  and  State  sov- 
ereignty was  preparing.  In  literature  new  ideas  were  tak- 
ing shape  in  both  Europe  and  America.  In  this  year  the 
leading  men  of  Germany,  France,  and  England,  Goethe, 
Cuvier,  and  Scott,  died.  The  romantic  movement  of 
Shelley,  Keats^  Byron,  and  Wordsworth  was  at  its 


76 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


height.  Goethe  had  suggested  the  grand  principle  of  evo- 
lution in  science,  and  a new  age  with  new  interests  and 
new  men  was  about  to  be  born. 

In  this  year  Emerson  resigned  from  his  church  and 
crossed  the  ocean.  He  wanted  especially  to  see  four  Eng- 
lish writers.  In  Italy  he  found  Walter  Savage  Landor. 
In  England  he  talked  with  Coleridge,  Wordsworth,  and 
Carlyle.  From  them  he  derived  new  ideas,  and  his  mind 
expanded  in  the  presence  of  the  large  ideals  of  the  leaders 
of  English  thought.  Between  Emerson  and  Carlyle  began 
a friendship  almost  unique  in  literature  and  of  great  con- 
sequence to  both  writers.  On  his  return  to  America,  Emer- 
son began  his  career  as  a lecturer.  In  1834  he  made  his 
home  in  Concord.  On  the  anniversary  of  the  battle  of  Lex- 
ington, April  19, 1836,  he  read  the  famous  verses  now  called 
the  “ Concord  Hymn.”  Two  days  later  he  married  Lidian 
Jackson,  sister  to  Dr.  Charles  Jackson,  who  first  used  ether 
as  an  anaesthetic.  In  August  of  the  same  year  he  completed 
Nature , his  first  important  work.  It  was  published  the  next 
month.  Nature  remains  the  most  intense  of  all  Emerson’s 
writings.  It  put  an  end  to  many  of  the  old  controversies 
of  America,  and  made  literature  of  the  theology  of  New 
England.  It  discussed  the  problems  of  liberty  and  neces- 
sity, of  human  freedom  and  divine  sovereignty.  In  this 
way  it  corresponded  to  Jonathan  Edwards’s  famous  study, 
but  it  suggested  ideas  of  which  Edwards  never  dreamed. 
The  beauty  of  the  book  was  in  its  exquisite  descriptions  of 
nature.  Its  chief  value  was  in  the  identity  which  it 
pointed  out  of  natural  and  spiritual  law,  and  in  the  asser- 
tion that  every  existence  in  nature  is  the  counterpart  of  an 
existence  in  the  mind. 

A great  scientist,  Prof.  Tyndall,  wrote  in  his  copy  of 
Nature — “ Purchased  by  inspiration.” 

Lectures. — Emerson  next  attempted  a course  of  lec- 
tures on  “The  Philosophy  of  History.”  On  August  31, 
1837,  he  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society  an 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


77 


oration  on  u Man  Thinking,  or  the  American  Scholar.”  Its 
effect  was  extraordinary.  “ It  was  an  event  without  any 
former  parallel  in  our  literary  annals — a scene  to  be  always 
treasured  in  the  memory  for  its  picturesqueness  and  its  in- 
spiration. What  crowded  and  breathless  aisles  ! what  win- 
dows clustering  with  eager  heads !”  (Lowell).  Dr.  Holmes 
called  the  oration  “ our  intellectual  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence.” It  gave  positive  assurance  that  the  time  had 
come  for  a literature  which  should  no  longer  be  feeble  nor 
imitative. 

Emerson  continued  the  thought  of  this  inspiring  address 
in  his  next  course,  upon  “ Human  Culture.”  In  1838  he 
delivered  his  famous  address  before  the  Divinity  School. 
The  Dial  was  a journal  established  by  Emerson  in  1840. 
It  was  edited  by  Emerson  and  Margaret  Fuller  until  1844, 
when  it  ceased.  More  than  forty  of  Emerson’s  pieces  were 
contributed  to  it.  Among  his  poems  in  The  Dial  were 
such  famous  ones  as  “ The  Problem,”  u Wood-Notes,”  and 
“ The  Sphinx.” 

Essays. — Emerson’s  favorite  form  of  writing  was  the 
essay.  His  first  series  of  essays  appeared  in  1841.  His 
plan  was  to  polish  and  finish  his  lectures,  and  gather 
enough  together  to  make  a small  volume.  Among  the 
subjects  treated  in  the  first  series  (twelve  in  all)  are 
“ History,”  “ Self-Reliance,”  “ Friendship,”  “Heroism,” 
“ Intellect.”  They  were  not  difficult  and  obscure  like 
Nature.  Each  was  crowded  with  thought,  and 
the  thoughts  were  expressed  in  language  clear  as 
crystal. 

The  second  series  of  essays  appeared  in  1844.  Among 
the  subjects  included  in  the  volume  were  “ The  Poet,” 
“ Experience,”  “ Character,”  “ Manners.”  The  first  con-' 
tains  the  most  imagination.  It  defines  grandly  the  cha- 
racter and  mission  of  the  poet. 

English  Traits. — In  1847,  Emerson  made  a second  visit 
to  England.  He  lectured  in  several  cities,  and  in  1856 


78 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


published  his  impressions  of  English  life  under  the  title 
English  Traits. 

Representative  Men  was  published  in  1850.  It  was  a col- 
lection of  lectures  delivered  in  1845.  The  first  was  “ The 
Uses  of  Great  Men.”  Then  followed  studies  of  Plato  the 
philosopher,  Swedenborg  the  mystic,  Montaigne  the  sceptic, 
Shakespeare  the  poet,  Napoleon  the  man  of  the  world, 
and  Goethe  the  writer. 

Last  Years. — The  final  lectures  of  Emerson  form  three 
volumes — Conduct  of  Life  (1860),  Society  and  Solitude  (1870), 
and  Letters  and  Social  Aims  (1875). 

In  1877  he  published  May-Day , the  most  elaborate  of 
his  longer  poems.  Parnassus , a volume  of  selected  poems, 
appeared  in  1874. 

For  some  years  before  his  death  Emerson  suffered  from 
almost  complete  loss  of  memory.  He  died  April  27, 
1882. 

Emerson’s  Character. — Emerson’s  manhood,  no  less 
than  his  genius,  is  worthy  of  admiration  and  of  reverence. 
His  life  corresponded  to  his  brave,  cheerful,  and  steadfast 
teaching.  He  lived  as  he  wrote.  His  manners  were  gen- 
tle, his  nature  transparent,  and  his  life  singularly  pure  and 
happy.  The  most  striking  features  of  his  character  were 
his  optimism  and  his  loyalty  to  truth.  Always  hopeful, 
always  serene,  the  good  and  gracious  Emerson  has  left 
memories  of  his  manliness  that  are  among  the  priceless 
possessions  of  our  literature. 

Place  in  Literature. — (1)  “ We  were  still  socially  and 
intellectually  moored  to  English  thought  till  Emerson  cut 
the  cable  and  gave  us  a chance  at  the  dangers  and  glories 
of  blue  water  ” (Lowell).  His  manly  and  independent  at- 
titude was  the  most  wholesome  example  that  American 
literature  could  have. 

(2)  Puritan  theology  had  seen  in  man  a vile  creature 
whose  instincts  for  beauty  and  pleasure  were  proofs  of  his 
depravity.  Imaginative  literature  was  impossible  under 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


79 


such  conditions.  Unitarianism  was  the  reaction  from  the 
Puritan  austerity,  and  aimed  to  dignify  man.  The  Uni- 
tarian movement  took  its  first  definite  shape  in  the  work 
of  Channing.  Emerson  expanded  the  ideas  of  Channing, 
and  converted  the  aspirations  of  theology  into  literature. 

(3)  Emerson  was,  above  all  else,  a thinker.  He  pon- 
dered the  relations  of  man  to  God  and  to  the  universe. 
He  taught  the  noblest  ideals  of  virtue  and  of  spiritual  life. 

(4)  The  present  age  is  scientific.  The  splendid  dis- 
coveries of  science  have  profoundly  affected  literature. 
Emerson  was  the  first  in  America  to  make  science  into 
literature,  and  to  explain  the  problems  of  nature  “by 
his  instincts  of  beauty  and  religion.” 

Emerson’s  Style. — The  charm  of  Emerson’s  style  is 
due  to  two  circumstances : first,  the  perfection  of  his  sen- 
tences ; second,  his  unerring  choice  of  the  right  word. 

(1)  His  sentences  were  short.  They  were  the  faultless 
expression  of  noble  ideas.  Emerson  spent  much  time 
over  his  sentences,  polishing  them  as  a lapidary  would  a 
gem.  They  were  carefully  revised  until  every  superfluous 
word  was  eliminated. 

(2)  Emerson  was  singularly  fortunate  in  his  choice  of 
words.  There  is  never  a misfit.  He  was  always  able  to 
find  exactly  the  word  required  to  express  his  thought.  It 
is  the  right  word  in  the  right  place. 

The  chief  defect  in  the  style  of  Emerson  is  the  lack  of 
coherence  between  the  parts  of  a poem  or  an  essay.  The 
logical  connection  between  the  sentences  is  not  always 
clear.  It  is  sometimes  a little  hard  to  make  out  exactly 
what  sentence  Number  Two  has  to  do  with  sentence  Num- 
ber One.  An  English  critic  has  even  said  that  the  essays 
read  as  if  the  sentences  had  been  shuffled  in  a hat  and  ar- 
ranged haphazard.  The  desire  for  compression  led  Emer- 
son not  only  to  shorten  his  sentences,  but  to  omit  those 
intermediate  clauses  which  explain  the  author’s  process  of 
thought.  Hence  Emerson  has  left  no  great  and  finished 


80 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


work.  He  is  a master  of  sentences,  but  he  fails  to  build 
them  into  a symmetrical  structure. 

Emerson’s  Influence. — Emerson  clearly  understood 
the  main  tendencies  of  the  time,  and  in  his  literary  work 
he  has  impersonated  them.  His  teachings,  both  intel- 
lectual and  moral,  “ have  become,”  says  Mr.  Norton,  “ part 
of  the  unconsciously  acquired  creed  of  every  young  Amer- 
ican of  good  and  gracious  nature.”  He  is  worth  more  to 
us  as  an  educational  force  than  any  modern  European 
writer.  Every  book  and  every  lecture  that  emanated  from 
his  tranquil  Concord  home  was  a rebuke  to  our  selfish 
materialism,  summoning  us  back  to  legitimate  pieties  and 
purity  of  thought. 

The  Transcendentalists. — The  Unitarianism  of  Chan- 
ning  became,  about  1832,  the  Transcendentalism  of  Emer- 
son. From  a philosophical  point  of  view,  Transcendental- 
ism was  the  application  of  idealism  to  nature  and  the 
affairs  of  life.  But  in  the  sight  of  history  it  stands  for  that 
spirit  of  inquiry  and  experiment  which  marked  the  days 
of  intellectual  revolution  in  New  England.  Liberalism 
in  Europe  (1830-50)  was  dissolving  the  old  political  and 
social  order.  All  the  European  states  save  Russia  were 
being  transformed  by  it.  Liberalism  in  scientific  thought 
was  changing  the  character  of  literature  and  philosophy. 
New  experiments  were  being  tried  in  religion,  in  educa- 
tion, and  in  society. 

Transcendentalism  is  the  phase  which  this  revolt  took  in 
New  England.  “ The  history  of  genius  and  of  religion  in 
these  times,”  said  Emerson,  “ will  be  the  history  of  this 
tendency.”  The  Dial  was  its  literary  organ,  but  the  best 
statement  of  its  aims  was  in  Emerson’s  orations  of 
1837-38. 

Brook  Farm. — One  of  the  curious  incidents  in  the 
awakening  of  New  England  was  the  founding  of  the 
Brook  Farm  community.  The  dissatisfaction  which  the 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND . 


81 


leading  spirits  of  the  time  felt  with  the  selfishness  and 
shallowness  of  the  existing  social  order  led  many  of  them 
to  dream  of  an  ideal  society  in  which  men  should  live  as 
members  of  one  family  and  not  as  enemies.  Coleridge  and 
Southey  thought  of  founding  such  a society  in  America  on 
the  Susquehanna  River.  In  1841,  the  year  after  He  Dial 
was  begun,  Mr.  George  Ripley  proposed  to  his  “ Trans- 
cendental ” friends  in  Boston  a plan  by  which  an  asso- 
ciation might  be  formed  “ in  which  the  members  . . . 
should  live  together  as  brothers,  seeking  one  another’s 
elevation  and  spiritual  growth  ” (Channing).  The  com- 
munity took  the  name  of  “ The  Brook  Farm  Institute  of 
Agriculture  and  Education.”  A stock  company  was 
formed.  It  numbered  nearly  seventy  members.  A farm 
of  about  200  acres  was  bought  at  West  Roxbury,  Mass, 
(the  birth-place  of  General  Warren  and  the  death-place  of 
Bishop  Eliot).  The  principle  of  the  organization  was  co- 
operation, instead  of  competition,  the  members  sharing 
jointly  in  the  profits.  Among  the  members  were  George 
Ripley,  Charles  A.  Dana,  George  W.  Curtis,  Margaret 
Fuller,  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  There  were  many 
other  interested  persons  who  were  frequent  visitors  to  the 
community,  but  who  never  identified  themselves  with  it. 
Among  them  were  Emerson,  Theodore  -Parker,  W.  H. 
Channing,  A.  B.  Alcott,  and  C.  P.  Cranch.  The  mem- 
bers sowed,  reaped,  and  gathered  into  barns ; taught  Latin 
and  Greek,  read  lectures,  and  wrote  poems.  The  Har- 
binger was  a weekly  literary  journal  conducted  by  them. 
This  idyllic  life  continued  about  five  years.  On  March  3," 
1846,  a fire  destroyed  the  main  building,  causing  a loss  of 
nearly  seven  thousand  dollars,  and  the  community  was 
dissolved.  (Brook  Farm  is  important  in  our  history  be- 
cause it  brought  together  some  of  the  best  minds  of  New 
England,  and  engaged  them  in  common  studies  and  in  the 
stimulating  interchange  of  ideas.  When  it  broke  up  these 
men  and  women  carried  the  thoughts  of  Emerson  and  the 
6 


82 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


culture  of  the  society  into  every  profession  of  American 
life. 

Members  of  Brook  Farm  Community. — George 
Ripley,  the  founder  of  the  community,  was  born  in  Green- 
field, Mass.,  Oct.  3,  1802,  and  died  in  New  York  City  July 
4, 1880.  He  was  a generous  helper  of  all  aspirants  after 

literary  fame.  Ripley  and  Charles  A.  Dana  (1819 ) 

edited  together  the  New  American  Cyclopaedia.  The  work 
was  begun  in  1857  and  completed  in  1863. 

Dana  was  managing  editor  of  the  New  York  Tribune 
1847-62.  Under  his  management  The  Tribune  became  the 
chief  organ  of  the  antislavery  movement.  In  1868,  Dana 
published  the  first  number  of  the  New  York  Sun,  of  which 
paper  he  is  still  the  editor. 

George  W illiam  Curtis  was  born  in  Providence,  R.  I.; 
Feb.  24,  1824.  He  accompanied  his  father  to  New  York  in 
1839,  and  was  employed  for  a year  as  a clerk  in  a mer- 
cantile house  of  that  city.  He  was  eighteen  months  at 
Brook  Farm,  and  two  years  on  a farm  in  Concord,  Mass. 
In  1846  he  went  abroad,  and  for  four  years  travelled  ex- 
tensively, not  only  in  Europe,  but  in  Egypt  and  the  East. 
After  his  return,  in  1850,  he  became  one  of  the  editors  of 
The  Tribune.  For  many  years  he  was  a popular  lecturer 
and  effective  political  orator.  In  1853  he  began  to  publish 
in  Harper's  Monthly  the  famous  series  of  essays  called  the 
“ Editor’s  Easy  Chair.”  Since  1857  he  has  been  the  prin- 
cipal editor  of  Harper's  Weekly. 

Curtis’s  books  are  Nile  Notes  of  a Howadji  (1851),  The 
JHowadji  in  Syria  (1852),  Lotus-Eating  (1852),  Potiphar 
Papers  (1853),  Prue  and  I (1856),  Trumps  (1862). 

Curtis  has  a style  of  rare  beauty  and  of  almost  magic 
charm.  It  is  hard  to  define  the  pensive,  dreamy  nature  of 
his  delightful  sketches.  It  is  prose  that  passes  into  poetry. 
It  is  a world  from  which  all  common  and  homely  things 
have  disappeared.  Quaint  fancy,  delicate  humor,  ele- 
gance, and  refinement  breathe  in  every  page  of  Prue  and  I 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


83 


and  the  Howadji.  Like  the  old  bookkeeper  in  Prue  and  7, 
Curtis  builds  in  all  his  books  his  castles  in  Spain.  “ They 
stand  lofty  and  fair,  in  a luminous,  golden  atmosphere,  a 
little  hazy  and  dreamy  perhaps,  like  the  Indian  summer.” 

Trumps  (a  novel)  and  The  Potiphar  Papers  are  sharp 
satires  upon  the  hollowness  and  sham  of  New  York 
society  life.  The  former  contains  a good  description  of 
Dr.  Channing. 

His  two  books  of  travel  are  full  of  the  spirit  and  romance 
of  the  gorgeous  East. 

Margaret  Puller  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass.,  May 
23,  1810.  She  received  a careful  education.  Her  wide 
culture  and  her  conversational  powers  made  her  a welcome 
guest  at  the  meetings  of  Emerson  and  Ripley  and  Chan- 
ning and  Freeman  Clarke.  She  edited  The  Dial , made 
numerous  translations  from  the  German,  and  wrote  Sum - 
mer  on  the  Lakes. 

In  1844  she  became  literary  critic  of  the  New  York 
Tribune.  For  two  busy  years  she  continued  to  live  in  New 
York.  Her  articles  in  The  Tribune  covered  a wide  range  of 
subjects,  and  she  treated  them  in  a strong,  masculine  man- 
ner. In  1847  she  was  in  Rome.  She  married  the  Marquis 
Ossoli,  and  aided  the  Italian  liberals  in  their  struggle  for 
independence.  After  the  capture  of  Rome  by  the  French, 
she  and  her  husband  escaped  from  the  city,  and  in  May, 
1850,  they  sailed  for  America.  The  vessel  was  wrecked 
upon  Fire  Island,  and  Margaret  Fuller,  her  husband,  and 
her  child  were  drowned.  Her  life  had  been  so  spent  in 
philanthropy  that  her  literary  productions  were  not  in  pro- 
portion to  her  genius.  She  published  Woman  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century  (1844)  and  Papers  on  Literature  and  Art 
(1846).  Margaret  Fuller  is  the  original  of  Zenobia  in 
Hawthorne’s  Blithedale  Romance. 

The  Concord  Writers. — Concord,  Mass.,  is  the  village 
of  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and  Thoreau.  Its  literary  and 
historical  associations  are  more  numerous  and  interesting 


84 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


than  those  of  any  other  place  in  America.  It  is  the 
“ cradle  of  American  liberty  ” and  the  birthplace*  of  the 
antislavery  movement.  The  great  men  and  women  who 
made  it  their  home  have  made  the  name  of  Concord 
famous  through  the  world.  The  Transcendental  Club, 
which  had  its  first  meeting  in  Dr.  Ripley’s  house  in  Bos- 
ton, in  1836,  met  frequently  in  Concord.  Curtis  worked  on 
a farm  in  Concord  township.  Emerson  made  the  village 
his  home  in  1834,  and  was  the  magnet  which  drew  all 
thoughtful  minds  thither.  The  principal  Concord  writers 
after  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  and  Thoreau,  were  Amos 
Bronson  Alcott,  Margaret  Fuller,  W.  H.  Channing, 
and  Theodore  Parker. 

A.  B.  Alcott  (1799-1888)  was  born  in  Wolcott,  Conn. 
In  1828  he  opened  a school  in  Boston.  His  methods  of 
teaching  and  of  discipline  were  novel.  Instead  of  taking 
a flogging  themselves  when  they  did  wrong,  his  students 
were  to  flog  him.  After  his  removal  to  Concord  he  de- 
voted himself,  in  his  visionary  way,  to  various  reforms  in 
education  and  in  civil  institutions.  He  emphasized  the 
necessity  of  a purely  vegetable  diet.  He  attempted  to 
found  a community  similar  to  Brook  Farm,  on  an  estate 
near  Harvard,  Mass.,  called  “ Fruitlands,”  but  failed.  He 
published  Tablets  (1868),  Concord  Days  (1872),  Table  Talk 
(1877),  Sonnets  and  Canzonets  (1877). 

His  daughter,  Louisa  May  Alcott  (1832-88),  Avrote 
Little  Women  (1867),  An  Old-Fashioned  Girl  (1869),  Little 
Men  (1871),  Aunt  Jo’s  Scrap-Bag  (1871-82),  Spinning- 
Wheel  Stories  (1884). 

Miss  Alcott  died  March  6,  1888,  two  days  after  her 
father. 

Theodore  Parker  was  born  in  Lexington,  Mass.,  Aug. 
24,  1810.  His  early  life  was  a continual  struggle  with  pov- 
erty. Through  all  difficulties  he  pursued  with  unalterable 
zeal  his  determination  to  obtain  a thorough  education.  In 
1837  he  was  ordained  as  minister  at  West  Roxbury.  At 


THE  A WAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


85 


Brook  Farm  the  busy  clergyman  met  the  best  minds  of 
America.  His  thirst  for  knowledge  was  amply  gratified  by 
the  new  society  in  which  he  found  himself.  In  1846  he 
was  called  to  larger  usefulness  in  Boston.  Here  his  suc- 
cess was  great.  His  broad  humanity,  intense  convic- 
tions, and  heroic  nature  led  him  to  support  all  movements 
designed  to  elevate  or  ameliorate  the  condition  of  the  peo- 
ple. He  was  interested  in  questions  of  labor,  poverty, 
and  temperance.  No  one  in  the  pulpit  did  more  during 
the  struggle  against  slavery.  He  was  ceaselessly  at  work 
with  tongue  and  pen  arousing  the  conscience  and  strength- 
ening the  sentiment  of  the  North.  He  did  the  work  of 
many  men  until,  exhausted  by  his  own  tremendous  labors, 
he  was  forced  to  go  abroad.  The  relief  came  too  late,  and 
on  May  10,  1860,  he  died  in  Florence,  Italy. 

Parker  was  not  a literary  character.  He  was  a thinker 
and  doer.  He  wrote  much,  but  never  with  a literary  inten- 
tion. His  complete  works  have  been  published  in  ten 
volumes  (1870). 

The  Channings. — William  H.  Changing  and  William 
Ellery  Channing,  nephews  of  Dr.  W.  E.  Channing,  were 
disciples  of  Emerson  and  frequent  visitors  at  Concord. 
The  former  was  a vigorous  antislavery  orator ; the  latter 
has  published  five  volumes  of  poems-  and  a Life  of 
Thoreau. 

Henry  David  Thoreau  [pronounced  Tho-ro']. — Many 
authors  have  helped  to  make  Concord  famous,  but  Tho- 
reau only  was  born  there.  He  was  the  most  original  cha- 
racter among  his  distinguished  townspeople,  and  has  as 
permanent  a place  in  literature  as  any  of  them.  He 
was  born  July  12,  1817.  His  grandfather  came  to 
America  from  the  Isle  of  Jersey.  Henry  was  sent  to 
school  in  Boston  and  in  Concord,  and  was  graduated 
from  Harvard  in  1837.  He  was  averse  to  learning  a trade 
or  profession.  His  later  life  was  spent  in  writing,  lec- 
turing, and  reading  a few  favorite  authors.  Surveying 


86 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE \ 


and  pencil-making  furnished  him  with  the  few  necessa- 
ries of  his  modest  living.  But  Thoreau  was  a born  natu- 
ralist. He  stood  nearer  to  Nature  than  do  ordinary  men. 
He  read  her  secrets  by  some  fine  instinct.  The  pleasures 
and  ambitions  of  the  world  had  no  fascinations  for  him. 
He  despised  wealth  and  rank  and  social  reputation.  He 
was  at  home  in  wild  nature  and  on  friendly  terms  with  all 
its  wild  inhabitants.  In  1845  he  built  with  his  own  hands, 
on  the  shore  of  Walden  Pond,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Con- 
cord, a rudely-timbered  hut.  It  had  but  one  room,  ten  feet 
wide  and  fifteen  feet  long.  Here  Thoreau  lived  for  two 
years  and  two  months,  during  which  time  his  expenses 
were  but  $68.76.  So  near  was  he  to  Nature’s  heart  that 
squirrels  played  about  his  shoulders,  the  partridge  fear- 
lessly entered  his  woodland  hermitage,  and  the  fish  al- 
lowed him  to  take  them  from  the  water  into  his  hand. 
“ He  named  all  the  birds  without  the  gun.”  He  had  the 
Indian’s  knowledge  of  woodcraft  and  of  the  times  and  sea- 
sons of  flowers  and  animals. 

Sometimes  he  journeyed  with  the  Indians,  accompany- 
ing them  in  their  canoes  or  climbing  with  them  among  the 
mountains  of  Maine.  Everything  in  nature  had  secret 
lessons  for  him,  from  the  blossoming  of  one  of  his  favorite 
flowers,  like  the  prince’s  pine,  to  a rude  arrowhead  or 
stone  hatchet  telling  tales  of  the  earlier  owners  of  the 
continent. 

His  Books. — A Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimac  Rivers 
(1849)  was  Thoreau’s  first  published  book.  It  met  with  so 
poor  a sale  that  nearly  all  the  copies  were  returned  to  him 
by  the  publishers.  It  was  then  that  he  said  that  he  had  a 
library  of  nine  hundred  volumes,  “ seven  hundred  of 
which  I wrote  myself.”  His  next  book  was  Walden  (1854) # 
It  was  his  best,  and  is  now  his  most  popular,  work.  The 
old  hut  by  the  pond  has  long  since  disappeared,  but  on 
its  site  is  a pile  of  stones  for  ever  increasing  in  size,  as 
every  visitor  adds  to  the  cairn  another  memorial  stone. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND.  ' 87 

Thoreau  died  May  6,  1862 ; he  was  buried  in  the  famous 
Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery  at  Concord,  where  rest  Emerson 
and  Hawthorne.  After  his  death  five  other  books  were 
printed  from  his  manuscripts.  They  were  Excursions  in 
Field  and  Forest  (1863),  The  Maine  Woods  (1864),  Cape 
Cod  (1865),  Letters  to  Various  Persons  (1865)  A Yankee  in 
Canada  (1866). 

His  Style. — Thoreau’s  manner  of  writing  was  much 
like  Emerson’s.  Pie  unconsciously  acquired  from  his 
great  friend  many  points  of  style,  and  particularly  the  use 
of  the  brief  sentence  packed  with  meaning.  His  minute 
descriptions,  however,  his  acute  observations,  and  his  gen- 
uine love  of  nature  and  of  solitude  are  entirely  his  own. 
Single  sentences  from  his  note-books  are  more  interest- 
ing than  his  longer  writings.  They  show  the  Emersonian 
faculty  of  casting  an  idea  into  a few  words.  For  example : 
“ Read  the  best  books  first,  or  you  may  not  have  a chance 
to  read  them  at  all.”  “ One  may  well  feel  chagrined  when 
he  finds  he  can  do  nearly  all  he  can  conceive.”  “ Noth- 
ing goes  by  luck  in  composition.”  “ The  best  you  can 
write  will  be  the  best  you  are.” 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne. — The  finest  products  of  the 
American  genius  in  literature  are  Emerson  and  Haw- 
thorne. The  former  was  the  master-mind  who  fixed  the 
character  and  determined  the  direction  of  American 
thought.  The  latter  is  our  foremost  literary  artist.  In 
him  all  that  was  weird  and  romantic  in  the  superstitions 
of  Puritanism  flowered  into  the  finest  art.  He  expressed 
the  strange  imaginations  of  his  beautiful  and  original 
genius  in  a style  unsurpassed  for  vividness,  subtilty,  and 
varied  melody.  His  work  is  permanent ; his  fame  is 
secure.  He  is  the  most  eminent  representative  of  the 
American  spirit  in  literature. 

In  Salem,  Mass.,  Hawthorne  was  born  July  4,  1804. 
His  family  had  dwelt  in  the  grim  old  town  since  1636, 
when  William  Hathorne  removed  thither  from  Dorches- 


88 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ter.  The  life  of  the  great  romancer  is  closely  bound  up 
with  the  ancient  sea-town.  In  his  youth  it  was  already 
falling  to  decay.  It  was  haunted  by  memories  of 
witches  and  strange  stories  of  the  sea.  It  is  the  Salem  of 
Endicott  and  the  sombre  traditions  of  the  first  Puritans. 

All  the  surroundings  of  Hawthorne’s  childhood  assisted 
his  loneliness  and  impressed  his  imagination.  He  lived 
in  a strange  world  of  his  own  creation.  His  father  wTas  a 
melancholy  and  silent  man,  who  died  when  Nathaniel 
was  but  four  years  old.  His  mother  lived  a sad  and  se- 
cluded life.  And  over  all  brooded  the  dark  traditions  of 
the  ancient  family.  Two  of  the  early  Hawthornes  had 
been  among  the  stern  judges  who  had  inflicted  unnatural 
punishments  upon  Quakers  and  witches.  Other  members 
of  the  family  in  the  olden  time  had  followed  the  sea  and 
left  behind  them  legends  of  peril  and  of  strange  adven- 
ture. 

Hawthorne’s  first  education  was  received  from  Dr. 
Joseph  E.  Worcester,  the  author  of  the  Dictionary.  In 
1821  he  entered  Bowdoin  College,  in  the  same  class  with 
Longfellow,  and  a year  after  Franklin  Pierce.  After  his 
graduation  he  returned  to  Salem  and  resumed  his  lonely, 
dreaming  life.  He  went  nowhere,  he  saw  no  one.  He 
worked  in  his  room  by  day,  reading  and  writing  ; at  twi- 
light he  wandered  out  along  the  seashore  or  through  the 
darkening  streets  of  the  town.  For  twelve  years,  from 
1825  to  1837,  this  lonely  life  continued.  He  was  uncon- 
sciously preparing  for  the  most  splendid  literary  fame. 
He  was  forming  his  character  and  his  style. 

His  first  novel  was  Fanshawe , published  at  his  own  ex- 
pense in  1826.  It  was  not  successful,  and  was  withdrawn 
from  circulation.  His  first  important  book,  Twice-Told 
Tales , appeared  in  1837. 

George  Bancroft,  the  historian,  found  him  a place  in  1839 
in  the  Salem  custom-house,  from  which,  two  years  after,  he 
was  dismissed  when  the  Whigs  came  into  power. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


89 


He  joined  the  Brook  Farm  community,  but  was  never 
in  sympathy  with  the  movement  nor  a believer  in  the 
Transcendental  notions  of  Emerson  and  his  school.  His 
Notebooks  are  full  of  his  discontent  with  the  life  at  West 
Roxbury.  “ I went,”  he  said,  “ to  live  in  Arcady,  arid 
found  myself  up  to  the  chin  in  a barnyard.  His  observa- 
tions took  literary  shape  in  The  Blithedale  Romance  (1852), 
the  only  literary  memorial  ot  the  singular  Brook  Farm 
Association. 

In  Concord. — After  his  marriage  in  1842,  Hawthorne 
made  his  home  in  the  “ old  manse  ” in  Concord,  Mass. 
He  was  fond  of  old  houses  about  which  the  fancy  might 
weave  strange  romances.  This  historic  house  had  been 
the  home  of  William  Emerson,  the  patriot-pastor ; in  it 
Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  had  written  Nature ; and  now 
Hawthorne  wrote  in  it  the  tales  which  were  collected  in 
the  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse  (1846).  The  second  series  of 
Twice-Told  Tales  appeared  in  1845.  In  the  following  year 
Hawthorne,  whose  income  was  decreasing,  returned  to 
Salem  and  was  appointed  surveyor  of  the  port,  a position 
which  he  held  for  three  years.  During  this  time  he  wrote, 
and  in  1850  published,  The  Scarlet  Letter , the  greatest 
novel  ever  written  in  America.  The  House  of  the  Seven 
Gables  was  his  next  book  (1851),  and  in  the  same  year 
appeared  The  Wonder- Book  and  the  Snow  Image . 

In  1852,  Hawthorne  bought  the  house  in  Concord  which 
is  now  most  intimately  associated  with  his  memory.  He 
called  it  “ Wayside it  was  next  to  “ Appleclump,”  the 
home  of  Alcott.  Thoreau  had  told  him  that  the  house  had 
once  been  occupied  by  a man  who  believed  that  he  would 
never  die.  Out  of  this  idea  Hawthorne  created  Septimius 
Felton , which  was  published  by  his  daughter  after  his 
death. 

In  Europe. — In  1853,  after  his  friend  and  schoolfellow, 
Franklin  Pierce,  was  elected  President,  Hawthorne  was  ap- 
pointed consul  at  Liverpool.  He  was  in  Europe  seven 


90 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


years,  the  first  four  being  spent  in  England.  His  close 
observation  of  foreign  life  appeared  in  the  English  Note- 
books, Our  Old  Home , and  French  and  Italian  Notebooks. 

In  1860  he  published  The  Marble  Faun , the  scene  of 
which  was  laid  in  Italy. 

Death. — Hawthorne  died  May  18, 1864,  while  travelling 
with  ex-President  Pierce  in  the  White  Mountains.  He  is 
buried  in  Concord  Cemetery  in  the  near  neighborhood  of 
Emerson  and  Thoreau. 

Hawthorne’s  Character. — Hawthorne  was  shy  and 
solitary,  but  he  was  not  morbid  nor  cynical.  His  life  was 
almost  devoid  of  incident.  He  was  happy  in  his  domestic 
relations.  His  character  was  as  pure  and  as  clear  as  his 
work.  From  his  ancestors  he  had  inherited  the  Puritan 
moods,  which  he  wonderfully  intermingled  with  his  artis- 
tic genius. 

His  Work. — Hawthorne  began  with  short  stories  and 
ended  with  complete  romances.  The  collections  of  short 
stories  are  Twice-Told  Tales , Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse,  Snow 
Image , Wonder-Book , and  Tanglewood  Tales . They  contain 
three  classes  of  tales — those  of  pure  fancy  and  allegory, 
those  which  relate  to  early  New  England  history,  and 
stories  for  children.  To  the  first  belong  such  creations  as 
“ Rappaccini’s  Daughter,”  “ Young  Goodman  Brown,” 
“ Drowne’s  Wooden  Image,”  “ Roger  Malvin’s  Burial,” 
“ David  Swan,”  “ The  Minister’s  Black  Veil,”  etc.  To  the 
second  belong  “ Legends  of  the  Province  House,”  “ Endi- 
cott  and  the  Red  Cross,”  “ The  May-Pole  of  Merry  Mount,” 
“ The  Gray  Champion,”  etc.  The  third  is  represented  by 
The  Wonder-Book  and  Tanglewood  Tales.  All  these  tales 
exhibit  the  same  powerful  imagination,  and  many  of  them 
leave  an  impression  of  gloom  and  mystery. 

Hawthorne  is  the  most  imaginative  writer  of  the  century. 
His  fancy  plays  upon  all  his  subjects,  and  makes  much  of 
the  homely  materials  on  which  he  relied  for  his  effects. 

The  characters  of  the  short  stories  are  scarcely  human, 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


91 


They  are  types  or  symbols.  They  represent  qualities  of 
mind  and  conditions  of  conscience.  Hawthorne’s  stories 
are  stories  of  conscience.  Sin  and  its  consequences  are  as 
much  present  to  his  imagination  as  they  were  to  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  Puritan  ancestors.  Temptation,  crime, 
and  the  penalty  of  guilt  are  the  subjects  which  he  analyzes 
and  describes. 

Hawthorne  was  most  successful  in  his  New  England 
stories.  He  had  a fine  and  unerring  instinct  in  dealing 
with  colonial  history.  The  records  and  the  legends  of  the 
colonial  days  were  caught  by  him  just  as  they  were 
disappearing,  and  fixed  for  ever  in  literature.  The  stern 
and  black-browed  Puritans  form  the  background  of  his 
art,  and  the  ineradicable  stain  of  blood  which  rests  upon 
the  persecutors  of  the  witches  tinges  the  current  of  his  best 
and  most  immortal  stories.  There  were  opportunities  for 
a romancer  in  such  a background  far  greater  than  Irving 
could  find  upon  the  Hudson,  or  Cooper  upon  the  New 
York  frontier. 

The  stories  for  children  were  among  his  most  careful 
writings.  First  came  Tlie  Whole  History  of  Grandfather's 
Chair  (1841).  The  True  Stories  from  History  and  Biography 
was  published  in  1852,  Wonder- Book  in  1851,  and  its  con- 
tinuation, Tanglewood  Tales,  in  1853.  The  latter  two  tell  in 
simple  language  stories  from  classical  mythology — “ The 
Golden  Apples,”  “The  Gorgon’s  Head,”  and  the  like. 

Hawthorne’s  great  novels  are  The  Scarlet  Letter,  The 
House  of  Seven  Gables,  The  Blithedale  Romance,  and  The 
Marble  Faun.  The  first  three  are  American ; the  last  is 
Italian  in  scene  and  subject. 

The  Scarlet  Letter  is  his  masterpiece.  It  is  the  best 
product  of  American  literature.  It  ranks  with  the  few 
really  great  novels  of  the  world.  It  is  a sombre  story  of 
crime  and  of  repentance.  There  are  but  four  characters, 
and  around  them  is  the  chill  atmosphere  of  Puritanism. 

The  House  of  Seven  Gables  is  a larger,  more  elaborate, 


92 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  suggestive  work  than  The  Scarlet  Letter , but  it  lacks 
the  unity  and  completeness  of  the  latter.  Into  The 
Blithedale  Romance  Hawthorne  put  his  observations  of  hu- 
man character  while  living  among  the  Brook  Farmers.  It 
contains  the  splendid  and  forceful  character  of  Zenobia 
(Hawthorne  had  Margaret  Fuller  in  mind  when  he  drew 
this  fine  character).  The  drowning  of  Zenobia  is  the  most 
tragic  chapter  Hawthorne  ever  wrote. 

The  Marble  Faun  contains  some  of  Hawthorne’s  finest 
writing.  The  descriptions  of  Italian  life  and  scenery  and 
art  are  perfect  in  their  poetic  grace  and  beauty.  It  is 
again  a story  of  temptation  and  of  crime,  and,  as  in  The 
Scarlet  Letter , there  are  but  four  important  characters. 
The  young  Italian,  Donatello,  is  the  faun , so  called  from 
his  fancied  resemblance  to  the  statue  of  the  sylvan  god 
by  Praxiteles  in  the  Capitol  at  Rome. 

Unfinished  Work. — Hawthorne  at  the  time  of  his 
death  was  busy  with  a novel  to  be  called  The  Dolliver  Ro- 
mance. A part  of  it  was  published  after  his  death  under 
the  title  of  Septimius  Felton  ; or , The  Elixir  of  Life.  Eternity 
of  earthly  existence  is  the  theme,  the  same  that  Haw- 
thorne had  already  employed  in  his  “ twice-told  tale  ” of 
“ Dr.  Heidegger’s  Experiment.” 

Two  other  fragments  were  posthumously  published : 
The  Ancestral  Footstep  and  Dr.  Grimshawe^s  Secret.  Both 
of  them  turn  upon  the  legend  of  an  indelible  bloody  foot- 
print. It  is  to  these  unfinished  tales  of  mysterious  imag- 
ination that  Longfellow  referred  in  his  lines  on  the  death 
of  Hawthorne.* 

His  Style. — Hawthorne  was  not  a philosopher  like 
Emerson,  but  he  was  our  first,  and  is  still  our  greatest,  lit- 
erary artist.  His  style  was  clear,  simple,  and  pictorial. 
His  skill  in  varying  the  construction  of  his  sentences  was 
greater  than  Emerson’s,  and  his  feeling  for  words  equally 


* “ The  unfinished  window  in  Aladdin’s  tower 
Unfinished  must  remain.” 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


93 


sure.  He  was  slow  to  compose,  and  slower  to  print,  prun- 
ing, correcting,  and  refining,  and  timidly  submitting  the 
final  work  to  the  world.  His  principal  fault  was  his 
fondness  for  allegory.  His  stories  and  his  characters  tend 
to  lose  human  interest  and  to  fade  into  symbols.  His 
range  was  limited.  But  within  his  limits  he  has  had  no 
equal  and  has  won  deathless  fame. 

Julian  Hawthorn©  (1846 — ),  the  son  of  the  romancer, 
has  published  several  novels.  Among  them  are  Garth , 
Archibald  Malmaison , Ellice  Quentin , Sebastian  Strome , For- 
tune’s Fool , and  Dust . He  has  also  written  the  biography 
of  his  father  and  mother. 

Antislavery. — The  last  phase  of  the  great  humanitarian 
movement  was  the  antislavery  enthusiasm.  In  this  im- 
portant cause  Concord  and  the  Concord  writers  played  an 
important  part.  It  was  at  Concord  that,  in  1836,  a public 
meeting  was  held  to  celebrate  the  liberation  of  the  West 
Indian  slaves  by  Great  Britain.  John  Brown,  the  hero  of 
Harper’s  Ferry,  started  from  Concord  for  the  scene  of  his 
desperate  adventure  in  1858. 

Almost  all  the  friends  of  Emerson,  with  the  notable  ex- 
ception of  Hawthorne,  were  abolitionists.  The  movement 
had  for  its  leader  William  Lloyd  Garrison  ; for  its  states- 
man, Charles  Sumner;  for  its  orator,  Wendell  Phil- 
lips ; for  its  novelist,  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  ; and  for 
its  poet,  John  Greenleaf  Whittier. 

1.  Garrison  (1805-79)  founded  in  Boston,  on  Jan.  1, 
1831,  The  Liberator , a weekly  antislavery  journal,  which 
he  edited  for  thirty-five  years.  It  was  through  his  agita- 
tion that  slavery  became  a burning  question.  He  formed 
numerous  societies,  and  created  with  his  own  pen  a large 
antislavery  literature.  In  1835  he  was  dragged  through 
the  streets  of  Boston  with  a rope  about  his  body. 

2.  Charles  Sumner  was  born  in  Boston  Jan.  6,  1811, 
and  died  in  Washington  Mar.  11,  1874.  He  received  his 


94 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


education  at  the  Boston  Latin  School,  Harvard  Univer- 
sity, and  the  Law  School.  He  rapidly  took  the  place 
among  scholars  and  men  of  letters  to  which  his  learning 
and  genius  entitled  him.  In  1837  he  visited  Europe, 
made  hosts  of  distinguished  friends,  and  was  everywhere 
received  and  admired.  Carlyle  called  him  “ Popularity 
Sumner.”  In  1840  he  returned  to  America. 

On  July  4,  1845,  he  delivered  the  first  of  his  great  ora- 
tions. It  was  upon  “The  True  Grandeur  of  Nations.”  It 
aimed  at  the  settlement  by  arbitration  of  international  dif- 
ficulties. His  speeches  against  slavery  began  in  the  same 
year. 

In  1856  he  delivered  a stirring  speech  on  the  “ Crime 
against  Kansas.”  Two  days  later  he  was  attacked  at  his 
desk  in  the  Senate  Chamber  by  Preston  S.  Brooks  of 
South  Carolina,  and  terribly  beaten  with  a bludgeon.  It 
was  not  until  1859  that  he  could  resume  his  seat  in  the 
Senate. 

Sumner’s  complete  works  have  been  published  in  fifteen 
volumes. 

His  brother,  Horace  Sumner,  was  drowned  with  Mar- 
garet Fuller  and  her  husband  in  the  wreck  of  the  “ Eliza- 
beth,” on  Fire  Island,  in  1850. 

3.  Wendell  Phillips,  next  to  Webster  among  Ameri- 
can orators,  was  born  in  Boston  Nov.  29,  1811,  and  died 
there  Feb.  2, 1884.  He  was  educated  at  Harvard,  studied 
law,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar. 

In  1835  he  saw  Garrison  dragged  through  the  streets  by 
a murderous  mob,  and  his  mind  was  then  made  up  to 
devote  himself  to  the  abolition  cause. 

In  1837,  at  a public  meeting  in  Faneuil  Hall,  he  made 
his  first  thrilling  speech  against  slavery.  Until  the  end  of 
the  struggle  he  fought  side  by  side  with  Garrison  and  used 
all  his  splendid  powers  of  oratory  to  arouse  the  country. 
His  most  celebrated  literary  addresses  were,  “ Toussaint 
l’Ouverture  ” and  “ The  Lost  Arts.” 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


95 


4.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  (1812 ) was  born  in 

Litchfield,  Conn.,  June  14,  1812.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  a distinguished  clergyman.  From  1824 
to  1832  she  lived  in  Hartford  as  pupil  and  teacher.  In  1836 
she  married  Prof.  Calvin  E.  Stowe.  She  inherited  from 
her  father  a hearty  hatred  of  slavery.  While  living  with  her 
husband  in  Cincinnati  she  often  received  and  protected 
runaway  slaves.  When  the  Fugitive-Slave  Law  passed, 
Mrs.  Stowe  felt  keenly  the  indifference  of  the  North,  and 
began  to  write  Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin , the  book  which  has  car- 
ried her  name  to  all  parts  of  the  world.  Richard  Hil- 
dreth had  published  in  1836  Archy  Moore , an  antislavery 
novel,  but  the  success  which  now  attended  Uncle  Tom’s 
Cabin  was  without  parallel.  It  was  first  published  in  the 
National  Era  at  Washington,  from  June,  1851,  to  April, 
1852,  and  in  the  latter  year  it  was  issued  in  book-form 
in  Boston.  It  has  been  translated  into  every  language  of 
Europe — even  into  Armenian,  Bohemian,  Wallachian,  and 
Welsh.  It  has  been  dramatized  and  acted  in  most  of  the 
theatres  of  the  world.  In  the  United  States  alone  a half 
million  copies  were  sold  in  five  years. 

In  1853  appeared  A Key  to  Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin . In 

this  year  Mrs.  Stowe  went  abroad  for  her  health,  and 
on  her  return  published  Sunny  Memories  of  Foreign 
Lands . 

Mrs.  Stowe  is  still  living  in  Hartford,  Conn.  Her  other 
works  were  Dred : A Tale  of  the  Great  Dismal  Swamp  (1856), 
The  Minister’s  Wooing  (1859),  The  Pearl  of  Orr’s  Island 
(1862),  Agnes  of  Sorrento  (1862),  Little  Foxes  (1865),  Old- 
Town  Folks  (1869),  Sam  Lawson’s  Fireside  Stories  (1871), 
My  Wife  and  I (1872),  We  and  Our  Neighbors  (1875), 
Poganuc  People  (1878). 

Her  Work. — Mrs.  Stowe  was  never  a very  careful  or 
skilful  writer,  but  she  was  always  clear  and  animated. 
She  got  much  of  her  style  from  frequent  reading  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  For  many  years  she  wrote  and  rewrote,  cor- 


96 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


rected  and  destroyed,  until  at  last  she  acquired  the  power 
she  so  much  desired  of  being  able  to  say  exactly  what  she 
thought. 

Her  books  belong  to  three  classes  : those  that  relate  to 
slavery,  those  that  treat  of  New  England  character,  and 
those  which  contain  practical  suggestions  as  to  the  every- 
day business  of  life. 

The  first  group  contains  the  famous  Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin 
and  Bred  (sometimes  called  Nina  Gordon ). 

The  second  group  has  for  its  finest  specimens  The  Min- 
ister’s Wooing  and  Old-Town  Folks.  Either  of  these  is  su- 
perior in  style  to  Uncle  Tom,  whose  fame  depends  upon  the 
subject. 

The  practical  books,  with  their  useful  and  pleasant  hints 
as  to  dress,  cooking,  housekeeping,  and  a thousand  things 
of  the  household,  are  Little  Foxes , House-and-Home  Papers, 
etc. 

5.  John  Greenleaf  Whittier  (1807 ) is  as  distinc- 

tively the  poet  of  New  England  as  Hawthorne  is  its  romancer. 
Although  a member  of  the  sect  of  the  Quakers,  who  were 
hated  and  persecuted  by  the  Puritans,  he  has  done  more 
than  any  other  American  writer,  save  Hawthorne,  to 
preserve  in  literature  the  traits  and  traditions  of  the  first 
New  Englanders.  He  is,  moreover,  the  chief  represen- 
tative in  poetry  of  the  historic  struggle  which  resulted 
in  the  overthrow  of  slavery  and  which  preceded  the  Civil 
War. 

His  Early  Life. — Whittier  was  born  in  Haverhill, 
Massachusetts,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Merrimac, . Dec.  17, 
1807.  His  ancestors  were  Quakers,  and  he  has  all  his  life 
adhered  to  the  principles  of  the  sect.  His  opportunities 
for  education  were  few  and  meagre.  He  worked  on  his 
father’s  farm  until  1827,  when,  with  his  scanty  earnings, 
he  attended  Haverhill  Academy  for  six  months.  He  then 
taught  in  a district  school,  and  returned  for  another  half 
year  at  Haverhill. 


THE  A WAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


97 


While  still  a farm-hand  he  became  the  owner  of  a copy 
of  Burns’s  poems,  to  the  reading  of  which  may  be  traced 
his  first  literary  impulse.  His  first  publications  were 
anonymous  contributions  to  William  Lloyd  Garrison’s 
Free  Press.  It  was  in  this  way  also  that  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  the  reformer  whom  he  was  destined  so 
greatly  to  assist. 

Antislavery  Advocate. — After  a rather  large  experi- 
ence as  a journalist,  Whittier  consecrated  himself  to  the 
historic  movement  which  was  then  agitating  New  Eng- 
land. He  became  in  1836  secretary  of  the  American  Anti- 
slavery  Society.  In  1838  he  edited  the  Pennsylvania  Free- 
man in  Philadelphia.  In  the  following  year  his  press  was 
destroyed  and  his  office  burned  by  a mob. 

In  1840,  Whittier  made  his  home  at  Amesbury,  Mass., 
where  he  has  ever  since  resided. 

His  Work. — Whittier’s  first  volume  was  Legends  of  Neiv 
England  (1831).  It  was  in  prose  and  verse.  In  1836  he 
published  Mogg  Megone , and  soon  after  the  Bridal  of 
Pennacook , in  both  of  which  he  drew  his  subjects  from  the 
life  of  the  New  England  colonists  and  their  relations  to  the 
Indians. 

From  1838  to  1889  he  has  been  an  industrious  writer. 
His  works  fall  into  three  groups  or  classes : First,  the 
poems  of  freedom  ; second,  those  relating  to  New  England 
history,  to  witchcraft  and  colonial  traditions  ; third,  rural 
ballads  and  idylls. 

(1)  Whittier  is,  first  of  all,  the  poet  of  freedom.  In  his 
poem  entitled  “ Proem,”  after  apologizing  for  the  imper- 
fections of  his  style,  he  declares — 

“ Yet  here  at  least  an  earnest  sense, 

Of  human  right  and  weal  is  shown, 

A hate  of  tyranny  intense 
And  hearty  in  its  vehemence, 

As  if  my  brother’s  pain  and  sorrow  were  my  own.” 


7 


98 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


And  adds  that,  with  a love  as  deep  and  strong  as  Milton’s, 
he  lays  his  best  gifts  upon  the  shrine  of  Freedom.  This 
passionate  love  of  liberty,  and  this  earnest  “ sense  of  hu- 
man right  ” swell  in  the  sincere  patriotism  of  “ Barbara 
Frietchie,”  in  the  exulting  joy  of  “ Laus  Deo,”  and  in  the 
scorching  indignation  of  “ Ichabod  ” [written  on  the  fall  of 
Webster].  The  antislavery  lyrics  are  passionate,  but  not 
artistic.  He  gained  his  reputation  with  the  Voices  of 
Freedom  (1849),  but  most  of  the  poems  had  only  a tem- 
porary interest  and  value.  They  aroused  public  opinion 
by  their  fervor  and  invective,  but  they  had  none  of  the 
greater  merits  that  ensure  permanent  fame.  Among  the 
poems  inspired  by  the  idea  of  liberty  are  verses  addressed 
to  the  famous  leaders  of  revolution  in  both  Europe  and 
America.  Channing,  Sumner,  Elliott,  Garibaldi,  and 
Kossuth  are  thus  addressed.  But  the  finest  among  them 
are  the  verses  on  the  death  of  Garrison. 

(2)  The  second  group  includes  many  of  Whittier’s  best 
ballads.  These  simple  and  spirited  poems  have  done  in 
verse  for  colonial  romance  what  Hawthorne  did  in  prose 
in  the  Twice-Told  Tales  or  Scarlet  Letter.  Whittier  is  the 
greatest  of  American  ballad-writers.  He  has  a story  to 
tell,  and  tells  it  vividly.  Among  the  best  of  these  roman- 
tic songs  are  “ Cassandra  South  wick,”  “ The  King’s  Mis- 
sive,” “ Calef  in  Boston,”  “ Mabel  Martin,”  “ How  the  Wo- 
men Went  from  Dover,”  “ The  Witch  of  Wenham,”  “ Mar- 
guerite,” and  “ Skipper  Ireson’s  Ride.” 

(3)  The  third  group  consists  entirely  of  the  pastoral 
poems,  or  ballads  and  idylls  of  rural  life.  They  contain  the 
very  heart  and  soul  of  New  England.  They  are  faithful 
and  loving  pictures  of  humble  life,  simple  and  peaceful  in 
their  subject  and  their  style.  The  masterpiece  of  this 
group  is  Snow-Bound.  Other  conspicuous  poems  are, 
“The  Barefoot  Boy,”  “Telling  the  Bees,”  “Among  the 
Hills,”  etc.  It  is  poems  of  this  kind,  relating  the  sim- 
ple experiences  of  homely  characters,  that  have  carried 


THE  A WAKENING  OF  NEW  ENGLAND. 


99 


him  to  the  hearts  of  the  people  and  made  him,  next  to 
Longfellow,  the  most  popular  of  American  poets. 

Some  of  Whittier’s  ballads  take  their  subjects  from  his- 
tory, like  the  splendid  Barclay  of  Ury.  The  longer  poems 
of  Whittier  are,  In  War  Times  (1863),  The  Tent  on  the 
Beach  (1867),  The  Pennsylvania  Pilgrim  (1872).  His  prose 
works  are,  Leaves  from  Margaret  Smith’s  Journal  (1849), 
delightful  sketches  of  life  and  character  in  the  old  colonial 
days;  Old  Portraits  and  Modern  Sketches  (1850);  and  Literary 
Recreations  (1854). 

His  Character  and  Style. — Two  things  must  be  re- 
membered in  studying  the  writings  of  Whittier : first,  his 
scanty  education ; second,  his  love  of  freedom  and  his  fel- 
low-men. 

His  early  surroundings  were  simple  and  frugal.  He  has 
pictured  them  in  Snow-Bound.  Poverty,  the  necessity 
of  laboring  upon  the  farm,  his  Quaker  creed,  his  busy 
later  life,  all  conspired  against  his  growth  in  knowledge 
and  literary  culture.  And  this  limitation  of  knowledge  is 
at  once  his  charm  and  his  defect.  It  has  led  him  to  write 
as  no  other  poet  could  upon  the  dear  simplicity  of  the 
New  England  farmstead.  He  has  written  from  the  heart, 
not  from  the  head.  He  has  composed  popular  pastorals, 
not  hymns  of  culture. 

A certain  charm  resides  in  his  homely  words  and  home- 
spun  phrases.  There  is  a pleasure  and  a satisfaction  in 
the  freshness  of  his  verse  which,  we  seek  in  vain  in  the 
labored  ornaments  and  polished  art  of  more  highly-culti- 
vated masters. 

It  is  also  the  obvious  cause  of  his  chief  defects.  He 
has  himself  stated  his  imperfections  and  their  causes  in  the 
first  five  stanzas  of  “ Proem.” 

He  has  not  mastered  the  melodies  of  verse  as  other 
American  writers,  more  widely  read  than  he,  have  done. 
His  style  is  uniform  and  his  measure  monotonous. 

Whittier  is  a poet  of  nature.  He  has  painted  the  land- 


100 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


scapes  of  New  England  as  Bryant  has  the  larger  features 
of  the  continent.  “ Salisbury’s  level  marshes,”  “ the  low 
green  prairies  of  the  sea,”  and  “all  the  little  world  of 
sights  and  sounds  whose  girdle  wras  the  parish  bounds,” 
are  the  materials  out  of  which  Whittier  has  drawn  his 
“ golden  woof-thread  of  romance.” 


CHAPTER  V. 

Longfellow,  Holmes,  and  Lowell. 

The  three  names  that  are  here  bracketed  together  repre- 
sent the  best  culture  and  the  highest  ideals  of  American 
literature.  They  are  the  finest  outcome  of  the  intellectual 
strivings  of  New  England.  Two  of  them  were  graduates 
of  Harvard  College,  and  all  of  them  Were  members  of  its 
faculty.  Two  of  them,  Holmes  and  Lowell,  still  live — the 
first  our  most  popular  man  of  letters;  the  other  the  best 
living  illustration  of  the  possibilities  of  American  culture. 
And  he  who  has  passed  from  us  was  the  most  universally 
known  of  all  our  poets,  reaching  the  hearts  and  raising  the 
lives  of  millions  of  his  countrymen. 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  was  born  in  Portland, 
Maine,  “ the  Forest  City,”  on  the  27th  of  February,  1807. 
He  was  a descendant  of  the  John  Alden  and  Priscilla 
Mullens  whose  lives  he  wove  into  that  loveliest  of  Puri- 
tan romances,  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish.  In  his 
poem  “ My  Lost  Youth  ” he  gathered  his  memories  of  his 
native  town.  Among  other  things,  he  recalled  the  sea- 
fight  in  1812  in  Portland  harbor  between  the  “ Boxer”  and 
the  “ Enterprise,”  when  the  commanders  of  both  the  Brit- 
ish and  the  American  brig  were  killed  and  laid  “ in  their 
graves  o’erlooking  the  tranquil  bay.” 

He  had  the  range  of  his  father’s  fine  library,  and  was 

101 


102 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


always  a great  reader,  dwelling  with  especial  fondness  on 
Irving’s  Sketch-Book. 

From  Portland  Academy,  Longfellow  went  in  1822  to 
Bowdoin  College,  Brunswick,  Me.  He  entered  the  same 
class  with  Hawthorne,  and  between  the  two  sprang  up  a 
lifelong  friendship. 

Teaching  and  Travelling. — In  1825  he  was  graduated 
from  Bowdoin,  and  was  almost  immediately  appointed 
professor  of  modern  languages  in  his  alma  mater.  He  was 
allowed  a year  for  European  travel,  that  he  might  prepare 
himself  for  his  new  office.  He  visited  France,  Spain,  Italy, 
and  Germany,  and  returned  in  1829  laden  with  the  spoils 
of  foreign  study.  He  was  the  first  to  establish  permanently 
in  our  literature  the  scholarship  of  Europe. 

In  1834  he  was  appointed  professor  of  modern  languages 
at  Harvard,  to  succeed  Mr.  George  Ticknor.  In  this  year 
and  the  next  he  published  Outre- Mer , a series  of  sketches 
of  his  travels.  He  had  previously  published  (1833)  his 
first  book,  Coplas  de  Manrique , a translation  from  the 
Spanish. 

In  1835,  Longfellow  again  went  abroad,  and  worked  hard 
at  the  languages  and  literatures  of  the  Old  World. 

When  he  began  his  new  duties  at  Harvard  in  1836  he 
made  his  home  in  Cambridge,  in  the  old  Craigie  House, 
which  had  been  the  home  of  Washington  when  he  took 
command  of  the  army. 

In  1843,  after  a third  visit  to  Europe,  he  married 
Frances  Appleton,  the  heroine  (Mary  Ashburton)  of 
his  Hyperion.  In  1861  his  wife  was  burned  to  death. 
He  sailed  for  Europe  for  the  last  time  in  1868,  and  re- 
ceived the  highest  literary  honors  from  Oxford  and  from 
Cambridge. 

He  died  March  24,  1882,  at  Cambridge,  Mass. 

Prose  Works. — Longfellow’s  happy  and -studious  life 
was  devoted  to  poetic  composition.  Nothing  interfered 
with  the  continuous  progress  of  his  literary  work.  In  the 


LONGFELLOW \ HOLMES \ AND  LOWELL. 


103 


long  list  of  his  publications  are  three  prose  works : Outre 
Mer , Hyperion , and  Kavanagh. 

Outre  Mer  (1835)  was  a description  of  his  first  European 
travels.  It  contained  sketches,  in  the  manner  of  Irving,  of 
France,  Spain,  and  Italy. 

Hyperion  (1839)  also  relates  some  of  the  experiences  and 
meditations  of  foreign  travel,  but  in  the  form  of  a romance. 
The  book  is  slightly  autobiographic.  Paul  Flemming,  the 
hero,  is  Longfellow  himself.  Mary  Ashburton,  the  heroine, 
is  Frances  Appleton,  who  four  years  later  became  his  wife. 
But  the  simple  love-story  makes  only  a small  part  of  the 
book.  The  rest  contains  original  translations  of  German 
poems,  criticisms  on  Goethe  and  Richter  and  other  Ger- 
man poets,  and  legends  of  the  castled  Rhine.  It  is  a true 
prose-poem,  crowded  with  poetic  imagery  and  full  of  the 
poetic  spirit. 

l\.avanagh , a novel,  was  published  in  1849.  It  was  less 
important  than  Hyperion , but  also  less  faulty  in  style.  It 
was  not  so  cloyed  with  sentiment,  and  showed  a finer  lite- 
rary sense.  It  was  a prose-idyll  of  New  England  village 
life. 

His  Poetry. — Longfellow’s  first  collection  of  poems  was 
the  Voices  of  the  Night  (1839).  In  this  volume  were  such 
famous  poems  as  “ The  Psalm  of  Life,”  “ The  Reaper  and 
the  Flowers,”  “ Footsteps  of  Angels,”  and  the“  Beleaguered 
City.”  They  all  illustrate  the  German  influence  which 
was  so  strong  in  Longfellow’s  life,  and  show  the  sadness 
and  the  sentiment  which  mark  the  German  romanticism. 
“ The  Psalm  of  Life  ” is  not  a great  poem,  but  it  became 
immediately  popular — was  sung  and  preached  in  churches 
and  repeated  by  the  people,  until  it  was  the  most  familiar 
of  American  poems. 

Ballads  and  Other  Poems  was  published  in  1841,  and  con- 
tained “ The  Skeleton  in  Armor,”  “ Wreck  of  the  Hes- 
perus,” “ Excelsior,”  “ The  Village  Blacksmith,”  “Maiden- 
hood,” etc. 


104 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Poems  on  Slavery  appeared  in  1842.  The  earnest  passion 
which  belonged  to  Whittier’s  lyrics  of  slavery  was  absent 
from  these  more  studied  compositions. 

In  1843,  Longfellow  made  an  experiment  in  dramatic 
writing  and  published  The  Spanish  Student. 

Poets  and  Poetry  of  Europe  (1845)  was  a collection  of 
translations  (many  made  by  himself)  from  the  representa- 
tive writers  of  Europe. 

In  1846  was  published  The  Belfry  of  Bruges  and  Other 
Poems . It  included  such  well-known  poems  as  “ The  Old 
Clock  on  the  Stairs,”  “ The  Arsenal  at  Springfield,”  and 
“ The  Arrow  and  the  Song.” 

The  Seaside  and  the  Fireside  (1850)  had  in  it  “ The  Build- 
ing of  the  Ship,”  so  well  known  by  every  school-boy,  and 
one  of  the  best  examples  of  Longfellow’s  style. 

The  Golden  Legend  (1851),  a long  poem,  is  laid  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  on  the  Rhine.  It  is  a medieval  ro- 
mance dramatically  treated.  The  versatile  genius  of  the 
poet  is  best  illustrated  in  this  work. 

Tales  of  a Wayside  Inn  (1863)  is  a series  of  stories  mod- 
elled after  the  plan  of  Chaucer.  The  prologue  introduces 
to  the  reader  the  several  characters  of  the  book.  They  are 
the  Landlord,  the  Student,  a Spanish  Jew,  a Theologian, 
a Norse  Musician  (Ole  Bull),  a Sicilian,  and  a Poet  (T.  W. 
Parsons).  A thread  of  comment  unites  the  many  stories 
of  this  delightful  volume.  Longfellow  was  a charming 
story-teller,  and  these  tales  are  told  in  the  clearest  and 
yet  most  varied  verse.  The  first  story  in  the  book  is  as 
familiar  as  “ The  Psalm  of  Life.”  It  is  “ Paul  Revere’s 
Ride.”  The  best  of  the  stories  are  the  legends  of  “ King 
Olaf.” 

The  New  England  Tragedies  (1868)  employed  those  sub- 
jects with  which  the  genius  of  Hawthorne  had  done  such 
wonderful  things.  But  Longfellow  was  not  successful  in 
his  studies  in  the  sombre  chapters  of  witchcraft,  and  these 
two  tragedies,  “ John  Endicott  ” and  “ Giles  Corey  of  the 


LONGFELLOW , HOLMES , AND  LOWELL.  105 

Salem  Farms,”  did  not  add  much  to  the  author’s  reputa- 
tion. 

The  Divine  Tragedy  (1872)  was  a dramatic  study  of  the 
life  of  Christ. 

Three  Books  of  Song  (1872)  contained  a second  series  of 
the  “ Tales  of  a Wayside  Inn  ” and  the  drama  of  “ Judas 
Maccabeus.” 

His  last  poems  were  The  Hanging  of  the  Crane  (1874),  a 
short  poem  written  in  honor  of  T.  B.  Aldrich  (see  page  154) ; 
The  Masque  of  Pandora  (1875),  a volume  of  miscellaneous 
poems  which  included  “ Morituri  Salutamus  ” and  the 
“ Sonnet  to  Summer;”  Keramos  (1878),  a poem  of  the  pot- 
ter; Ultima  Thule  (1880). 

A tragedy  called  Michael  Angelo  was  published  after 
Longfellow’s  death. 

Three  American  Poems. — Evangeline , Hiawatha , and 
The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  are  the  best  and  the  most 
characteristic  of  Longfellow’s  works.  The  first  is  the  best 
idyll  in  our  literature ; the  second  is  the  epic  of  the  red 
race  of  America  ; the  last  is  a poetic  romance  of  old  colonial 
days  in  New  England. 

Evangeline  was  Longfellow’s  first  long  poem.  It  appeared 
in  1847.  It  was  based  upon  a pathetic  chapter  in  Ameri- 
can history.  Acadia  (or  Nova  Scotia),  which  is  the  scene 
of  the  story,  was  in  1755  inhabited  by  certain  French 
colonists  called  “ French  Neutrals.”  When  the  Massachu- 
setts men  captured  the  French  forts  on  the  Bay  of  Fundy 
the  Acadians  were  condemned  as  rebels  and  were  ordered 
to  leave  the  province.  In  the  exile  which  followed  fami- 
lies and  lovers  were  separated,  perhaps  never  to  be  re- 
united. In  Longfellow’s  precious  poem  the  Acadian 
maiden,  Evangeline,  searches  for  many  years  for  her  lover 
Gabriel,  from  whom  she  had  been  separated,  and  finds 
him  at  last  in  a hospital,  dying.  The  poem  is  written  in 
hexameter  verses,  a metre  rarely  used  in  English  poetry. 
There  were  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  writing  a long 


106 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


poem  in  this  classic  measure.  But  Longfellow’s  success 
was  at  least  as  great  as  Clough’s  or  Kingsley’s.  His  verses 
were  not  accurate  according  to  classical  tradition,  but  they 
were  musical,  and  their  style  was  not  a classic  imitation, 
but  a modern  invention. 

Hiawatha , the  American  epic,  was  published  in  1855. 
Out  of  the  rude  legends  of  savage  tribes  Longfellow  con- 
structed this  splendid  epic  of  the  wilderness.  It  is  the 
best  of  all  his  long  poems.  Like  Hiawatha’s  boat,  “ the 
forest’s  life  is  in  it,  all  its  mystery  and  its  magic.” 

Freneau  had  been  the  first  to  make  use  in  literature  of 
the  romantic  Indian  life.  Cooper  had,  in  the  Leather- 
Stocking  Tales , given  permanent  life  to  the  red  man.  Long- 
fellow gave  an  imaginative,  original,  and  intensely  interest- 
ing record  of  the  ancient  Indian  traditions.  The  metre, 
which  is  admirably  adapted  to  the  subject,  was  derived 
from  the  Kalevala,  the  epic  of  Finland.  It  is  unrhymed 
trochaic  verse  of  eight  syllables. 

The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish  (1858)  is  on  a distinctly 
lower  plane  than  either  Evangeline  or  Hiawatha , but  it  is  a 
delightful  picture  of  the  “old  colony  days  in  Plymouth, 
the  land  of  the  Pilgrims.”  The  metre  is  the  same  as  that 
employed  in  Evangeline , and  lends  itself  readily  at  times  to 
the  humorous  flow  of  the  story. 

The  Divine  Comedy. — America  has  produced  four 
consummate  translations  of  great  poems — (1)  Bryant’s 
Homer  has  already  been  referred  to ; (2)  Christopher 
Cranch  translated  the  JEneid  into  blank  verse  in  1872; 
(3)  Bayard  Taylor’s  Faust  is  the  best  translation  ever  made 
from  the  German ; and  (4)  Dante’s  Divine  Comedy  has 
never  been  so  successfully  rendered  into  any  language  as 
by  Longfellow  into  English  in  1867. 

With  the  help  of  Lowell  and  Charles  Eliot  Norton, 
Longfellow  studied  critically  every  line  of  the  great 
poem,  and  in  his  version  of  it  preserved  carefully  the 
metre  of  the  original. 


LONGFELLOW , HOLMES , AND  LOWELL.  107 


Character  and  Style. — Longfellow  was  the  poet  of 
every-day  life.  His  poetry  corresponded  to  his  own  good 
and  generous  nature.  It  was  “ the  voice  of  the  kindest  and 
gentlest  heart  that  poet  ever  bore.” 

He  represents  the  best  American  taste  and  feeling,  but 
the  deeper  thoughts  of  our  literature  are  not  as  well  illus- 
trated in  him  as  in  other  of  our  poets. 

He  was  early  impressed  by  the  songs  and  romances  of 
Germany,  and  much  of  his  pensive,  dreamy  thought  and 
style  was  caught  from  that  literature  which  he  knew  and 
loved  so  well. 

The  first  important  factor  in  the  consideration  of  his 
work  is  his  extensive  scholarship.  He  was  the  most  widely 
read  of  all  our  poets.  His  life  was  spent  in  the  still  air  of 
delightful  studies.  His  poems  are  full  of  pleasing  sur- 
prises to  the  scholar.  Recollections  of  ancient  Greek  and 
Latin  poetry  or  songs  of  troubadours  and  minnesingers  are 
in  them.  But  Longfellow  was  master  of  his  learning. 
Although  he  drew  his  subjects,  and  often  his  style,  from 
far-off  sources,  he  was  yet  always  clear  and  interesting . 

He  wrote  upon  the  common  lessons  of  life,  which  com- 
mended him  to  the  common  people.  His  shorter  poems 
were  often  sermons  in  song,  like  “ The  Psalm  of  Life.” 

Another  group  of  his  poems  was  purely  sentimental. 
In  them  there  is  a gentle  and  undefinable  melancholy,  “ a 
feeling  of  sadness  and  longing,  that  is  not  akin  to  pain,  and 
resembles  sorrow  only  as  the  mist  resembles  the  rain.” 
Such  are  “The  Day  is  Done,”  “Footsteps  of  Angels,” 
“ The  Reaper  and  the  Flowers,”  etc.  It  is  these  poems 
' that  bring  Longfellow  close  to  the  heart  of  the  less  culti- 
vated classes. 

Longfellow  wrote  with  a purely  literary  intention.  He 
did,  indeed,  write  a few  antislavery  poems,  but  they  were 
artistic  products,  not  passionate  protests  like  Whittier’s. 

His  literary  knowledge  and  fine  taste  made  him  the 
most  successful  of  our  poets  in  the  metrical  arrangement  of 


108 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


verse.  He  experimented  with  various  metres,  and  usually 
with  marked  success.  In  Evangeline  and  The  Courtship  of 
Miles  Standish  he  used  the  difficult  hexameter ; in  Hia- 
watha he  used  the  singular  eight-syllabled  trochaic  verse  ; 
in  the  “ Skeleton  in  Armor  ” he  employed  the  vigorous 
measure  of  Drayton’s  “ To  the  brave  Cambrio-Britons  and 
their  Harp.” 

One  peculiarity  of  the  short  poems  is  at  once  noticed. 
Each  contains  a single  idea.  “ The  Beleaguered  City,” 
“ The  Arsenal  at  Springfield,”  etc.  owe  their  clearness, 
simplicity,  and  popularity  to  this  trait.  * 

Perhaps  the  most  conspicuous  feature  of  Longfellow’s 
style  at  all  periods  of  his  life  is  the  constant  presence  of 
analogy.  He  is  always  discovering  points  of  resemblance 
and  suggesting  comparisons.  Hence  the  unusual  number 
of  similes  and  metaphors  that  crowd  his  poems.  The 
word  “ like  ” occurs  so  frequently  that  it  becomes  tiresome. 
He  visits  the  arsenal  at  Springfield,  and  a comparison  of 
the  building  to  a vast  organ  rises  in  his  mind.  He  visits 
the  glacier  of  the  Rhone,  and  its  shape  reminds  him  of  a 
glove  ; forthwith  it  becomes  (in  Hyperion)  “ a gauntlet  of 
ice,  which,  centuries  ago,  Winter,  the  king  of  these  moun- 
tains, threw  down  in  defiance  to  the  Sun ; and  year  by 
year  the  Sun  strives  in  vain  to  lift  it  from  the  ground  on 
the  point  of  his  glittering  spear.” 

To  him, 

“ The  hooded  clouds  like  friars 
Tell  their  beads  in  drops  of  rain.” 


And  for  him 


He  sees 


“ The  cares  that  infest  the  day 

Shall  fold  their  tents  like  the  Arabs, 
And  as  silently  steal  away.” 


“ The  darkness 
Fall  from  the  wings  of  night, 


LONGFELLOW,  HOLMES,  AND  LOWELL.  109 


As  a feather  is  wafted  downward 
From  an  eagle  in  his  flight.” 

Place  in  Literature. — Longfellow  was  not  rugged  and 
elemental  like  Bryant;  he  had  not  Bryant’s  feeling  for 
the  colossal  features  of  wild  scenery.  He  was  not  pro- 
foundly thoughtful  and  transcendental  like  Emerson.  He 
was  not  so  earnestly  and  passionately  sympathetic  as 
Whittier.  But  he  was  our  first  artist  in  poetry.  Bryant, 
Emerson,  and  Whittier  commanded  but  a few  stops  of  the 
grand  instrument  upon  which  they  played  ; Longfellow 
understood  perfectly  all  its  capabilities. 

^ By  his  fortunate  choice  of  subjects,  and  his  clear,  simple, 
and  manly  treatment  of  them,  he  spoke  directly  to  the 
hearts  of  the  people ; but,  unlike  Whittier,  he  also  at- 
tracted to  him  by  his  broad  culture  another  and  more  crit- 
ical audience. 

He  is  our  most  popular  poet.  He  sways  in  the  hearts 
of  men  and  women  whose  sorrows  have  been  soothed  and 
lives  raised  by  his  gentle  verse. 

“ Such  songs  have  power  to  quiet 
The  restless  pulse  of  care, 

And  come  like  the  benediction 
• That  follows  after  prayer.” 

Longfellow’s  Friends. — When  Longfellow  entered  the 
faculty  of  Harvard  College  he  gathered  about  him  the  best 
minds  of  Boston  and  Cambridge.  With  four  of  his  friends 
he  formed  a social  company  called  the  “ Five  of  Clubs.” 
The  members  were,  besides  Longfellow,  Charles  Sumner, 
C.  C.  Felton,  George  S.  Hillard,  and  H.  R.  Cleve- 
land. 

Among  his  other  intimate  friends  were  Louis  Agassiz, 
T.  W.  Parsons,  George  Washington  Greene,  and  James 
Russell  Lowell. 

The  Five  of  Clubs. — Cornelius  Conway  Felton 
(1807-62)  was  a most  enthusiastic  Greek  scholar.  He 


110 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


became  professor  of  Greek  at  Harvard  in  1832,  and  pro- 
fessor of  Greek  literature  in  1834.  He  was  appointed  pres- 
ident of  Harvard  in  1860.  He  translated  many  foreign 
works  and  edited  several  Greek  text-books.  After  his 
death  were  published  Familiar  Letters  from  Europe  (1864) 
and  Greece , Ancient  and  Modern  (1867). 

George  Stillman  Hillard  (1808-79)  was  a successful 
lawyer.  He  was  associated  with  George  Ripley  in  the 
editing  of  The  Christian  Register , and  with  Sumner  in 
the  publication  of  The  Jurist.  He  delivered  a number  of 
public  discourses  of  considerable  merit.  The  best  of  them 
were  a eulogy  on  Daniel  Webster  and  an  oration  On  the 
Dangers  and  Duties  of  the  Mercantile  Profession . His  best 
work  was  Six  Months  in  Italy  (1853).  He  was  the  editor  of 
a well-known  series  of  Readers  and  the  author  of  a Life  of 
George  Ticknor. 

Henry  Russell  Cleveland  (1809-43)  published  Re- 
marks on  the  Classical  Education  of  Boys  (1834)  and  a Life 
of  Henry  Hudson. 

(For  Sumner  see  page  93.) 

Louis  Agassiz  was  born  in  Switzerland  May  28,  1807. 
He  came  to  this  country  in  1846.  He  was  made  professor 
of  zoology  and  geology  in  the  Lawrence  Scientific  School 
at  Cambridge,  Mass.,  in  1848.  His  industry  and  enthu- 
siasm in  scientific  study  were  enormous.  His  fame  was 
equal  to  that  of  Cuvier  or  Humboldt.  He  became  the 
most  inspiring  teacher  of  America,  and  the  history  of 
natural  science  in  our  country  dates  its  rise  from  his 
lectures  and  enthusiastic  zeal.  He  died  in  Cambridge, 
Mass.,  December  14,  1873. 

Thomas  William  Parsons  (1819 ),  after  studying 

at  the  Boston  Latin  School,  went  to  Italy  and  studied 
Italian  literature.  He  commenced  a translation  of 
Dante’s  Divine  Comedy , which  he  published  complete  in 
1867.  He  published  Ghetto  di  Roma , a volume  of  poems, 
in  1854.  It  contained  the  excellent  lines  “ On  a Bust  of 


LONGFELLOW \ HOLMES \ AND  LOWELL.  Ill 


Dante.”  (Parsons  was  the  Poet  in  The  Tales  of  a Way- 
side  Inn.) 

George  Washington  Greene  (1811-83)  was  a grandson 
of  General  Nathanael  Greene  of  Revolutionary  fame.  He 
entered  Brown  University,  but  left,  on  account  of  ill- 
health,  before  completing  his  course.  In  1837  he  was  ap- 
pointed United  States  consul  at  Rome.  In  1848  he  was 
made  professor  of  modern  languages  at  Brown.  He  has 
also  been  professor  of  history  at  Cornell.  He  published 
Historical  Studies  (1850),  History  and  Geography  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  (1851),  Historical  View  of  the  American  Revolution 
(1865),  etc.  One-  of  Longfellow’s  last  poems,  “ Ultima 
Thule,”  was  dedicated  to  Greene. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  is  both  poet  and  prose-writer. 
He  is  a true  New  Englander,  and  has  celebrated  Boston, 
whose  State-house  he  has  called  “ the  hub  of  the  solar 
system,”  in  all  his  writings. 

He  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass.,  August  29,  1809. 
Among  his  schoolmates  in  the  Cambridgeport  Academy, 
which  he  attended  from  his  tenth  to  his  fifteenth  year, 
were  Margaret  Fuller  and  Richard  Henry  Dana,  Jr.  He 
was  sent  to  Harvard  from  the  Andover  Phillips  Academy, 
and  was  graduated  from  the  college  in  1829.  He  was  on 
the  best  terms  of  good  fellowship  with  his  fellow-collegians, 
and  has  commemorated  the  class  in  several  of  his  best  “ oc- 
casional ” poems.  Among  the  members  of  his  class  were 
Benjamin  Peirce,  the  mathematician  and  astronomer ; Dr. 
James  Freeman  Clarke;  and  Rev.  Samuel  F.  Smith,  who 
wrote  “ My  Country,  ’tis  of  Thee.”  Peirce,  Smith,  and 
others  of  the  class  are  wittily  described- in  the  poem  “ The 
Boys.” 

His  first  poem,  intended  for  a larger  public  than  the 
college-students,  was  the  eloquent  lyric  “ Old  Iron- 
sides,” beginning  “ Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down.” 
It  had  been  proposed  to  break  up  the  old  frigate  Con- 


112 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


stitution,  but  Holmes’s  stirring  protest  in  1830  saved  the 
ship. 

Student  of  Medicine. — Holmes  began  the  study  of 
medicine  in  Boston  in  1830.  From  1833  to  1836  he  studied 
in  the  medical  schools  of  Europe.  In  the  latter  year  he 
returned  to  America,  received  his  degree  from  Harvard 
College,  began  the  practice  of  his  profession,  and  published 
his  first  volume  of  poems.  The  volume  contained 
“ Poetry,  a Metrical  Essay,”  “ The  Last  Leaf,”  “ My 
Aunt,”  and  the  “ Height  of  the  Ridiculous.”  In  1838  he 
was  chosen  professor  of  anatomy  and  physiology  in  Dart- 
mouth College.  In  1847  he  accepted  a similar  position  in 
Harvard  College.  He  has  published  several  medical 
works : Currents  and  Counter-Currents  in  Medical  Science 
(1861),  Border  Lines  in  Some  Provinces  of  Medical  Science 
(1862),  Medical  Essays  (1883). 

Pros©  Works. — The  Atlantic  Monthly  was  established  in 
1857.  In  that  year  Holmes  began  to  publish  in  it  the 
papers  which  have  contributed  most  to  his  fame.  They 
were  republished  in  three  books  : The  Autocrat  of  the  Break- 
fast Table  (1858),  Professor  at  the  Breakfast  Table  (1859), 
Poet  at  the  Breakfast  Table  (1873).  The  first  is  the  author’s 
masterpiece.  Humor,  satire,  and  scholarship  are  skilfully 
mingled  in  its  graceful  literary  form.  It  also  contains 
some  of  the  best  of  Holmes’s  poems,  as  “ The  One-Horse 
Shay,”  “ The  Chambered  Nautilus,”  etc.  A slight  thread 
of  story  runs  through  the  book.  The  scene  is  an  Ameri- 
can boarding-house,  with  its  typical  characters.  The  cen- 
tral figure  is  the  Autocrat,  and  the  drollery  and  acute  ob- 
servation and  suggestive  thoughts  that  run  and  sparkle 
in  the  book  are  the  material  and  the  result  of  his  table- 
talk. 

The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast  Table  was  not  equal  to  its 
predecessor.  The  same  plan  was  followed,  but  it  lacked 
the  freshness  and  originality  of  the  incomparable  first 
volume. 


LONGFELLOW , HOLMES , AND  LOWELL . 


113 


The  Poet  at  the  Breakfast  Table , which  appeared  after  the 
lapse  of  some  years,  was  somewhat  better,  and  was  more 
serious  than  the  other  two. 

Between  the  second  and  third  volumes  of  the  series  ap- 
peared two  novels  : Elsie  Venner  (1861)  and  The  Guardian 
Angel  (1868).  The  weirdness  of  these  romances  recalls 
the  manner  of  Hawthorne.  The  heroine  of  the  first  has 
in  her  blood  the  poison  and  the  madness  of  a serpent. 
Her  mother  a short  time  before  the  birth  of  the  girl  was 
bitten  by  a rattlesnake,  and  the  subtle  poison  enters  into 
and  influences  the  life  of  the  child. 

Myrtle  Hazard,  the  heroine  of  The  Guardian  Angel , is 
also  an  illustration  of  inherited  traits.  Her  wayward, 
lawless  freaks  and  instincts  are  inherited  from  distant  an- 
cestors, one  of  whom  had  been  suspected  of  witchcraft,  and 
another  of  whom  had  been  burned  at  the  stake. 

Holmes’s  other  prose  works  are  Soundings  from  the  At- 
lantic (1864),  being  reprinted  essays  from  the  Atlantic 
Monthly;  Mechanism  in  Thought  and  Morals  (1871),  being  an 
essay  on  the  functions  of  the  brain ; memoirs  of  John 
Lothrop  Motley  (1879)  and  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  (1884), 
A Mortal  Antipathy  (1885),  and  Our  Hundred  Days  in  Europe 
(1887). 

His  Poetry. — Holmes’s  volumes  of  poetry  are  Urania 
(1846),  Astrsea  : The  Balance  of  Illusions  (1850),  Songs  in 
Many  Keys  (1861),  Songs  of  Many  Seasons  (1875),  and  The 
Iron  Gate  (1880).  He  is  the  poet  of  society.  No  other 
American  versifier  can  rhyme  so  easily  and  so  gracefully. 
The  majority  of  his  productions  have  been  called  forth  by 
special  occasions.  More  than  thirty  were  read  at  reunions 
of  his  old  Harvard  class.  Twice  as  many  more  were  read 
at  Phi  Beta  Kappa  anniversaries,  centennials,  social  enter- 
tainments, and  the  like.  These  poems  necessarily  have 
only  a temporary  value.  They  are  not  a sure  passport  to 
posterity.  They  are  neat  and  witty  and  original.  They 
are  always  happy  and  full  of  melody.  But  their  sparkling 


114 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


wit  and  spontaneity  cannot  ensure  them  a permanent 
place  in  the  memories  of  readers. 

There  is,  however,  another  and  much  smaller  group  of 
poems  which  show  in  richest  kind  the  best  qualities  of 
poetic  art.  They  are  “ The  Chambered  Nautilus,”  “The 
Living  Temple,”  “ The  Voiceless,”  “ The  Last  Leaf,”  “ The 
Deacon’s  Masterpiece.” 

“ The  Chambered  Nautilus  ” is  a majestic  treatment  of 
a lofty  theme.  The  Yankee  spirit  speaks  in  the  “ Dea- 
con’s Masterpiece,”  a poem  of  inimitable  and  faultless 
humor.  “ The  Last  Leaf  ” wonderfully  combines  pathos 
and  fun,  and  is  perhaps  the  finest  example  of  his  art. 

Holmes  is,  first  of  all,  a humorist.  But  the  distance  be- 
tween the  “ Ballad  of  an  Oysterman  ” or  “ The  Spectre 
Pig,”  and  “The  Chambered  Nautilus”  or  “The  Living 
Temple,”  denotes  the  variety  of  his  genius.  He  can  frolic 
in  the  broadest  fun,  touch  the  tenderest  emotion,  or  draw 
deathless  lessons  from  “the  ship  of  pearl.” 

James  Russell  Lowell  (1819-1891)  is  our  foremost  critic, 
essayist,  and  poet.  His  pojjularity  has  not  been  as  great  as 
Longfellow’s  or  Whittier’s,  but  his  poetry  has  expressed 
deeper  thoughts  and  broader  culture  than  that  of  either  of 
his  predecessors.  As  an  antislavery  poet  he  was  second 
only  to  Whittier,  and  many  of  his  verses  became  watch- 
words of  the  party  he  supported.  As  a public  man  and 
representative  of  the  United  States  Government  in  foreign 
courts  he  has  upheld  the  noblest  ideals  of  the  republic  and 
taught  the  manliest  lessons  of  patriotism.  He  has  ever 
preferred  his  country  to  his  party,  and  has  criticised  with 
energy  and  indignation  political  evils  and  sordid  selfish- 
ness which  have  threatened  the  dignity  and  honor  of 
American  citizenship. 

Early  Years. — Lowell  was  born  in  Cambridge,  Mass., 
February  22,  1819,  in  the  historic  “ Elmwood  ” mansion. 
He  was  graduated  at  Harvard  College  in  1838.  In  1840 


LONGFELLOW \ HOLMES \ AND  LOWELL.  115 

he  was  admitted  to  the  bar.  He  never  practised  his  pro- 
fession, but  gave  himself  entirely  to  literature.  His  first 
volume  of  poems  was  published  in  1841,  and  was  entitled 
A Year’s  Life . In  1843  he  established  a magazine  called 
The  Pioneer , to  which  Hawthorne,  Poe,  and  Whittier  con- 
tributed, but  which  survived  only  three  months.  In  1844 
he  married  Maria  White,  an  abolitionist,  who  aroused  in 
him  an  active  opposition  to  slavery.  Together  they  con- 
tributed to  The  Liberty  Bell . In  the  same  year  he  pub- 
lished another  volume,  containing  a narrative  poem,  A 
legend  of  Brittany . 

His  first  venture  in  literary  criticism  was  Conversations 
on  the  Old  Poets  (1845). 

In  1848  appeared  three  of  Lowell’s  most  important 
poems : The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal , The  Biglow  Papers , and  A 
Fable  for  Critics . 

Professor  and  Editor. — In  1851  he  visited  Europe,  but 
returned  the  following  year.  In  1855  he  was  appointed  to 
succeed  Longfellow  as  professor  of  modern  languages  and 
belles-lettres  in  Harvard.  He  again  went  abroad,  and  for 
two  years  studied  widely  in  Italian,  French,  and  Spanish 
before  assuming  the  duties  of  his  professorship. 

The  Atlantic  Monthly , the  foremost  literary  magazine  of 
America,  was  founded  in  1857  by  Longfellow,  Emerson, 
Holmes,  and  Lowell.  Holmes  proposed  the  name  of  the 
new  magazine,  and  published  in  its  earliest  numbers  “ The 
Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table.”  Lowell  was  chosen  the 
first  editor.  From  1863  to  1872  he  was  joint-editor  with 
Charles  Eliot  Norton  of  the  North  American  Review . 
The  capital  essays  which  he  contributed  to  these  periodi- 
cals and  to  Putnam’s  Monthly  have  been  gathered  into  three 
volumes : Fireside  Travels  (1864),  Among  my  Boohs  (1870), 
and  My  Study  Windows  (1871). 

Public  Offices. — President  Hayes  appointed  Mr.  Low- 
ell in  1877  minister  to  Spain.  In  1880  he  was  transferred 
to  Great  Britain.  Some  of  his  public  addresses  while  min- 


116 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ister  to  England  are  among  the  choicest  of  his  writings. 
Several  of  them  are  collected  in  Democracy  and  Other 
Essays  (1887.). 

His  Later  Poems  are  the  Commemoration  Ode  (1865)  in 
honor  of  the  “ living  and  dead  soldiers  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity,Under  the  Willows  and  Other  Poems  (1869),  The 
Cathedral  (1869),  and  Three  Memorial  Poems  (1876). 

Lowell’s  home  was  at  “ Elmwood,”  but  the  author  fre- 
quently crossed  the  ocean  to  the  England  that  he  loved  so 
well. 

Lowell  as  Poet.— The  first  noticeable  characteristic  of 
Lowell’s  poetry  is  its  variety.  He  is  a humorist,  a writer 
of  dialect  verse,  of  songs  of  freedom,  and  of  majestic  me- 
morial odes.  From  the  simple  rustic  charm  of  “ The 
Courtin’  ” he  rises  to  the  lofty  thought  of  The  Cathedral . 
Though  he  dwells  upon  the  perplexing  problems  of  the 
present  age,  he  expresses  no  syllable  of  discontent  or  of 
despair.  Like  Emerson  and  Longfellow,  he  cherishes  a 
generous  optimism.  It  is  this  faith  and  joy  in  Nature  and 
his  own  abundant  health  and  hope  that  make  such  verses 
as  “ Pictures  from  Appledore  ” and  “ Under  the  Willows  ” 
so  sympathetic  and  spontaneous. 

(1)  Humor. — Lowell’s  quick  perception  of  the  comic  or 
quaint  side  of  things,  and  his  irrepressible  humor,  find  their 
way  into  almost  everything  he  does  in  prose  and  verse.  They 
appear,  combined  with  penetrating  criticism,  in  the  Fable 
for  Critics , a good-natured  satire  on  the  poets  of  America. 
In  it  their  virtues  and  foibles  are  neatly  hit  off.  A capital 
contrast  is  drawn  between  Emerson  and  Carlyle ; and  the 
criticisms  ofPoe  and  Bryant  and  Hawthorne  and  Whittier 
are  excellent.  The  poem  was,  however,  carelessly  written, 
the  language  is  not  well  chosen,  and  many  otherwise  fine 
passages  are  marred  by  vulgarisms  and  atrocious  rhymes. 

His  humor  is  at  its  best  and  becomes  classic  in  the  Big- 
low Papers.  This  masterpiece  is  in  two  parts  : the  first 
was  called  out  by  the  Mexican  War;  the  second,  by  the 


LONGFELLOW \ HOLMES,  AND  LOWELL.  117 


Civil  War.  The  poems  which  composed  the  first  part  were 
pointed  satires  upon  the  Government  and  the  war  party. 
They  pretended  to  be  the  writings  of  Hosea  Biglow,  an 
imaginary  character,  who  cultivated  the  muse  and  a farm 
in  a New  England  country-town.  They  were  written  in 
the  Yankee  dialect,  and  portray  the  Yankee  character  as 
no  other  works  have  done.  The  poems  of  Hosea  were  cor- 
rected and  commented  on  by  the  deliciously  humorous 
character,  Homer  Wilbur  the  learned  pastor  of  the  First 
Church  in  Jaalam  (wherever  on  the  map  that  may  be). 

(2)  Poems  of  Freedom. — Lowell’s  serious  political  poems 
are  the  “ Present  Crisis,”  “ Ode  to  Freedom,”  “ Capture  of 
Fugitive  Slaves,”  “ Washing  of  the  Shroud,”  “ Villa 
Franca,”  the  “ Commemoration  Ode,”  etc.  They  cover  a 
wide  range  of  history,  and  they  teach  a manly  courage  and 
steadfast  adhesion  to  the  right.  The  “ Commemoration 
Ode  ” is  the  best  literary  memorial  of  the  Civil  War. 

(3)  Descriptions  of  Nature. — The  best  of  Lowell  s poems 
on  Nature  is  “ The  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal.”  It  is  based  on 
the  old  tradition  of  the  San  Greal.*  But  it  is  chiefly 
famous,  not  for  the  story  that  it  tells  nor  the  moral  that  it 
draws,  but  for  the  superb  lines  upon  June  and  December 
that  it  contains. 

Lowell’s  Prose. — The  essays  collected  in  My  Study 
Windows  and  Among  my  Books  cover  a wide  range  of  litera- 
ture and  show  excellent  judgment  and  acute  criticism. 
They  are  full  of  information,  and,  still  better,  breathe  the 
spirit  of  inspiration  and  enthusiasm.  Their  faults,  which 
are  insignificant  in  comparison  with  their  superb  qualities, 
are  the  faults  of  his  poetry — an  unpleasant  mingling  of  the 


* The  San  Greal  or  Holy  Grail,  was  the  cup  which  held  the  wine  at 
the  first  celebration  of  the  Lord’s  Supper.  St.  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  it 
is  said,  received  some  of  the  blood  of  Christ  in  this  cup  at  the  crucifix- 
ion, and  that  it  was  carried  away  and  hidden  by  angels.  A search  for 
it  was  instituted,  and  it  was  believed  that  no  one  could  ever  find  it  who 
was  not  perfectly  pure  in  thought,  word,  and  deed. 


118 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


serious  and  the  grotesque,  excessive  use  of  rhetorical  fig- 
ures, fondness  for  learned  references  and  for  odd  or  diffi- 
cult words. 

Edwin  Percy  Whipple  (1819-86)  is  another  critic  of 
considerable  local  fame,  and  a lifelong  friend  of  Emerson, 
Longfellow,  and  Lowell.  He  was  a frequent  lecturer  on 
literary  subjects  and  a contributor  to  the  magazines.  His 
first  work  was  Essays  and  Reviews  (1848).  He  next  pub- 
lished Literature  and  Life  (1849).  His  other  works  were 
Character  and  Characteristic  Men  (1866),  Literature  of  the  Age 
oj  Elizabeth  (1876),  commonly  considered  his  best  work  ; 
Recollections  of  Eminent  Men  (1887),  and  American  Litera- 
ture and  Other  Papers  (1887). 

Mr.  Whipple  had  read  largely,  but,  it  would  appear,  with- 
out method.  His  criticism  was  rather  superficial  than 
penetrative.  His  skill  in  relating  an  anecdote  was  greater 
than  his  skill  in  interpreting  an  author.  He  was  a close 
follower  of  Macaulay,  but  never  caught  the  charm  of  his 
style. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  Historians. 

America  has  produced  some  of  the  best  historical 
writings  of  the  present  century.  To  conceive  and  execute 
a great  history  requires  the  exercise  of  the  highest  literary 
powers.  The  author  must  possess  imagination  and  narra- 
tive skill.  He  must  interpret  the  past,  and  he  must,  like 
an  artist,  make  the  past  to  live  again  for  us. 

The  chief  historians  who  have  added  lustre  to  Ameri- 
can literature  in  the  nineteenth  century  are  William 
Hickling  Prescott,  George  Bancroft,  John  Lothrop 
Motley,  and  Francis  Parkman.  Other  American  his- 
torians of  lesser  merit  are — Jared  Sparks,  John  Gorham 
Palfrey,  Richard  Hildreth,  John  Foster  Kirk,  John 
Bach  McMaster,  and  John  Fiske. 

William  Hickling  Prescott  (1796-1859)  was  bom  in 
Salem,  Mass.,  May  4,  1796.  He  was  a grandson  of  Colonel 
William  Prescott,  the  hero  of  Bunker  Hill.  He  was  gradu- 
ated from  Harvard  College  in  1814,  and  intended  to  study 
law,  but  was  prevented  by  a serious  accident.  A crust  of 
bread  thrown  across  the  table  at  a class  dinner  struck  one 
of  his  eyes  and  destroyed  the  sight.  The  other  eye  be- 
came affected  by  sympathy,  and  for  six  weeks  the  cheer- 
ful patient  was  confined  in  a totally  dark  room.  The 
heroism  of  the  scholar  is  not  less  than  the  heroism  of  the 
soldier.  Prescott  dedicated  his  life  to  literature  and  his- 
tory, and,  crippled  as  he  was,  produced  works  which  the 

119 


120 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


world  will  not  willingly  let  die.  He  mastered  the  learned 
languages  of  Europe,  and  acquired  by  patient  toil  a clear 
and  charming  English  style. 

The  Reign  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella , his  first  book,  ap- 
peared in  1837.  It  was  the  result  of  eleven  years’  work. 
His  plan  was  to  listen  for  four  hours  each  day  to  his 
reader;  then  to  digest  and  arrange  the  material  of  the 
reading.  By  a marvellous  exercise  of  memory  he  carried 
in  his  mind  all  the  facts  of  his  history,  and  composed  to 
his  satisfaction  chapters  of  fifty  and  sixty  pages,  which 
were  then  dictated. 

The  history  covered  three  important  events : the  discov- 
ery of  America,  the  conquest  of  the  Moors,  and  the  found- 
ing of  the  Inquisition.  It  met  with  great  success,  and  the 
author  was  encouraged  to  continue  his  studies  in  Spanish 
history. 

Other  Spanish  Histories. — In  1843  he  published  the 

History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico.  It  was  written  in  a more 
animated  and  picturesque  style  than  its  predecessor,  and 
dealt  with  the  romantic  and  tragic  incidents  of  the  most 
absorbing  period  in  the  history  of  Spain.  In  1847  ap- 
peared the  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru.  It  is  the  most 
artistic  of  his  books,  and  tells  in  a fascinating  way  the 
story  of  the  Incas  and  the  Pizarros. 

Prescott  died  January  28,  1859,  in  the  same  year  with 
Irving  and  with  Lord  Macaulay.  He  left  unfinished  a His- 
tory of  Philip  II 

Spanish  subjects  have  proved  particularly  attractive  to 
American  scholars.  We  have  seen  that  Irving’s  best  wTork 
was  done  in  that  field.  Indeed,  Irving  had  begun  a his- 
tory of  the  conquest  of  Mexico,  but  surrendered  it  to  Pres- 
cott. 

Prescott’s  biographer,  Mr.  George  Ticknor  (1791— 
1871),  published  in  1849  the  History  of  Spanish  Literature , 
a masterly  work  which  is  still  the  standard  authority 
upon  the  subject  of  which  it  treats. 


THE  HISTORIANS. 


121 


Henry  Charles  Lea  (1825 ) of  Philadelphia  has 

written  a scholarly  History  of  the  Inquisition  of  the  Middle 
Ayes  (3  vols.,  New  York,  1888). 

Georg©  Bancroft  (1800-1891)  was  born  in  Worcester, 
Mass.,  October  3,  1800.  After  graduating,  in  1817,  he 
went  to  Germany,  and  for  five  years  pursued  a wide 
range  of  studies  in  the  principal  universities.  His  first 
publication  was  a volume  of  poems  in  1823.  He  was 
for  a few  years  connected  with  the  Round  Hill  Classical 
School  at  Northampton,  Mass.  The  first  volume  of 
his  life-work,  The  History  of  the  United  States,  appeared  in 
1834. 

He  has  held  several  public  positions.  He  was  ap- 
pointed in  1838  collector  of  the  port  of  Boston.  He  was  an 
unsuccessful  candidate  for  governor  in  1844,  and  was  Sec- 
retary of  the  Navy  under  President  Polk.  It  was  through 
his  influence  that  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis  was 
established.  He  was  minister  to  England  from  1846  to 
1849.  He  has  also  represented  the  United  States  Govern- 
ment in  Russia  and  in  Germany. 

Bancroft  is  a philosophical  historian.  He  has  produced 
an  exhaustive  and  authoritative  history  of  the  United 
States  down  to  the  formation  of  the  Constitution.  The 
work  is  clear,  but  tedious.  It  is  learned  and  diffuse.  Its 
twelve  volumes  are  almost  too  much  for  time  and  patience, 
but  it  is  none  the  less  a monument  to  the  scholarship  and 
unflagging  industry  of  the  writer. 

The  last  volume  was  published  in  1882,  and  the  revised 
edition  was  issued  in  1884,  fifty  years  after  the  appearance 
of  the  first  volume. 

Mr.  Bancroft  now  lives  in  Washington  in  the  winter  and 
at  Newport  in  the  summer. 

John  Lothrop  Motley  (1814-77),  the  greatest  of  Ameri- 
can historians,  was  born  in  Dorchester,  Mass.,  April  15, 
1814.  He  was  educated  in  Mr.  Bancroft’s  Round  Hill 


122 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


School,  and  from  there  was  sent  to  Harvard.  He  com- 
pleted his  university  studies  in  Germany. 

In  1839  he  published  an  unsuccessful  novel  called 
Morton’s  Hope.  Ten  years  later  appeared  a second  novel, 
Merry  Mount.  It  was  based  upon  the  romantic  incident  in 
the  history  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony,  of  which  Thomas 
Morton  of  Mount  Wollaston  was  the  hero.  (See  page  17.) 

Motley’s  first  historical  essay  was  upon  the  life  and 
character  of  Peter  the  Great,  and  was  published  in  the 
North  American  Review  (1845). 

Histories  of  Holland. — Historians  who  would  produce 
exhaustive  and  permanently  valuable  works  concentrate 
their  studies  upon  a single  nation  or  a particular  age. 
Irving  and  Prescott  chose  Spain  ; Motley  in  1846  began  to 
master  the  history  of  Holland.  After  ten  years  of  patient 
toil  he  published  at  his  own  expense  The  Rise  and  Fall  of 
the  Dutch  Republic  (1856).  Its  success  was  immediate,  and 
the  obscure  author  was  at  once  universally  recognized  as  a 
great  historian.  No  historical  work  combining  so  many 
elements  of  greatness  had  yet  been  produced  in  America. 
His  second  brilliant  work  was  The  History  of  the  United 
Netherlands  (1860-68). 

From  1861  to  1867  he  was  minister  to  Austria.  He  was 
appointed  minister  to  England,  but  was  recalled  in  1870. 

His  third  and  last  work,  The  Life  and  Death  of  John  of 
Barneveld  appeared  in  1874.  It  was  perhaps  even  more 
classic  in  style  than  either  of  its  superb  predecessors. 

Motley  died  in  Dorchester,  England,  May  29,  1877. 
Dean  Stanley,  in  a sermon  preached  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey, referred  to  him  as  “ one  of  the  brightest  lights  of  the 
Western  Hemisphere,  . . . the  indefatigable  historian 
who  told,  as  none  before  him  had  told,  the  history  of  the 
rise  and  struggle  of  the  Dutch  Republic.  So  long  as  the 
tale  of  the  greatness  of  the  house  of  Orange,  of  the  siege  of 
Leyden,  of  the  tragedy  of  Barneveld  interests  mankind,  so 
long  will  Holland  be  indissolubly  connected  with  the  name 


THE  HISTORIANS. 


123 


of  Motley  in  the  union  of  the  ancient  culture  of  Europe 
with  the  aspirations  of  America.” 

Motley’s  learning  was  more  profound  than  Prescott’s, 
his  grasp  of  historical  research  surer  and  more  compre- 
hensive, and  in  pictorial  power  he  has  surpassed  all  our 
historians  save  Parkman. 

His  life  has  been  written  by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes. 

Francis  Parkman  (1823 ) has  surpassed  all  other 

writers  of  history  in  brilliant  narrative  and  in  a pure, 
direct,  and  vigorous  style.  He  too  has  made  a single 
epoch  the  subject  of  lifelong  study,  and  has  mastered 
every  detail  of  it. 

He  was  born  in  Boston  September  16,  1823,  and  was 
graduated  at  Harvard  in  1844.  He  is  still  living  in  Bos- 
ton, and  in  the  summer  at  Jamaica  Plains.  In  1871  he 
was  professor  of  horticulture  in  the  agricultural  school  of 
Harvard.  Like  Bancroft,  he  is  fond  of  flowers,  and,  like 
him  also,  is  very  successful  in  the  cultivation  of  roses. 
The  Lilium  Parhnanni  has  been  named  for  him. 

Before  he  was  graduated  from  Harvard,  Parkman  had 
conceived  the  idea  of  writing  on  “ French-American  his- 
tory.” For  almost  fifty  years  he  has  faithfully  pursued  his 
studies  in  the  story  of  the  French  occupation  of  this  conti- 
nent, and  the  work  is  still  incomplete,  though  one  more 
volume  will  finish  the  magnificent  series. 

Preparing*  for  His  Histories. — The  story  he  had  to 
tell  was  one  of  conquest  and  adventure.  The  savage  allies 
of  France  in  the  French  and  Indian  Wars  necessarily  oc- 
cupied an  important  place  in  it.  In  order  to  understand 
thoroughly  the  way  of  life,  the  character,  and  habits  of  the 
wild  natives  of  America,  he  started  from  St.  Louis  in  1846 
with  a hunter  guide  for  the  Far  West.  For  several  weeks 
he  lived  with  a tribe  of  the  Sioux  Indians,  sharing  in  every 
particular  their  brutal  life — choked  with  smoke  in  their 
filthy  wigwams,  feeding  with  them  on  bear’s  grease,  fol- 
lowing them  in  their  buffalo  hunts  among  the  Black  Hills, 


124 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


observing  minutely  all  their  ceremonies.  The  narrative  of 
his  hardships  and  adventures  is  contained  in  his  first  book, 
The  Oregon  Trail  (1849). 

Parkman  never  entirely  recovered  from  the  severe  phys- 
ical strain  of  those  sickening  months.  His  health  has 
never  been  strong,  and,  like  Prescott,  he  has  suffered  con- 
tinually from  partial  blindness.  He  has  visited  and  ex- 
amined every  spot  where  events  of  any  importance  in  his 
history  took  place.  After  his  sojourn  among  the  Indians 
he  visited  Europe,  studied  in  foreign  archives,  and  de- 
ciphered French  manuscripts,  so  that  his  subject  has  been 
studied  both  from  life  and  from  books. 

In  1851  appeared  his  second  book,  The  Conspiracy  of 
Pontiac.  He  also  wrote  a novel,  Vassal  Morton , in  1854. 

French-American  History. — The  general  title  of 
Parkman’s  series  of  histories  is  “ France  and  England 
in  North  America : a Series  of  Historical  Narratives.” 
It  is  the  struggle  of  the  two  European  powers  for  the  pos- 
session of  the  American  continent — a struggle  fraught  with 
stupendous  consequences  for  this  country.  (See  page 
25.) 

The  successive  volumes  of  the  group  are  : 1.  Pioneers  of 
France  in  the  New  World  (1865),  in  two  parts — (a)  “ Hugue- 
nots in  Florida (5)  “ Samuel  de  Champlain 2.  The 
Jesuits  in  North  America  (1867)  ; 3.  La  Salle;  or , The  Dis- 
covery of  the  Great  West  (1869)  ; 4.  The  Old  Regime  in  Can- 
ada (1874)  ; 5.  Count  Frontenac ; or,  New  France  under  Louis 
XIV.  (1877)  ; 6.  (unpublished) ; 7.  Montcalm  and  Wolfe 
(1884). 

The  time  covered  by  these  volumes  is  from  the  discovery 
of  Florida,  in  1512,  to  the  taking  of  Quebec,  in  1759. 

The  scenes  of  the  events  are  the  shores  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, Quebec,  Montreal,  Lake  Champlain  and  Ticonde- 
roga,  the  chain  of  the  great  lakes,  and  the  Mississippi 
River  to  the  Far  South-west. 

The  characters  of  the  books  are  French  noblemen, 


THE  HISTORIANS. 


125 


Jesuit  fathers,  Indian  braves,  explorers,  trappers,  and 
half-breeds. 

The  style  is  remarkable  for  vividness.  It  is  hardly  credi- 
ble that  these  histories  should  ever  be  supplanted  or  re- 
written. 

Jared  Sparks  (1789-1866)  edited  the  writings  of  George 
Washington  in  1834.  He  was  the  first  editor  of  the  Amer- 
ican Almanac  and  Repository  of  Useful  Knowledge.  He  was 
professor  of  history  in  Harvard  from  1839  to  1849,  and 
president  of  the  college  until  1853. 

He  edited  in  1830  The  Diplomatic  Correspondence  of  the 
American  Revolution. 

He  also  wrote  The  Life  of  Gouverneur  Morris  (1832). 

Mr.  Sparks  was  the  editor  of  The  Library  of  American 
Biography  and  edited  the  Works  of  Benjamin  Franklin. 
American  history  is  indebted  to  him  for  his  thorough  and 
careful  editing  of  important  works. 

John  Gorham  Palfrey  (1796-1881)  was  a graduate  of 
Harvard,  and  succeeded  Edward  Ever'ett  as  pastor  of  the 
Brattle  Street  Unitarian  Church  in  Boston.  He  held  many 
important  public  offices,  and  was  an  early  antislavery 
advocate. 

His  important  work  was  The  History  of  New  England  to 
1875  (4  vols.,  1858-64).  His  style  is  clear,  but  not  vivid. 
His  manner  is  not  sprightly  nor  rhetorical,  but  is  careful 
and  conscientious. 

Richard  Hildreth  (1807-65)  was  born  in  Deerfield, 
Mass.,  June  22,  1807,  and  was  graduated  at  Harvard  in 
1826.  He  practised  law  in  Newburyport  and  Boston 
until  1832,  when  he  became  editor  of  the  Boston  Atlas. 
His  earliest  work  was  Archy  Moore  (1836),  the  first  anti- 
slavery novel. 

In  1855  he  published  Japan  as  it  Was  and  Is. 

His  most  important  work,  the  History  of  the  United 
States , in  six  volumes,  was  published  from  1849  to  1856. 
For  the  ordinary  reader  this  is  much  the  best  history  of 


126 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  country.  It  has  not  so  much  rhetoric  as  Bancroft’s, 
but  its  literary  merit  is  higher.  The  style  is  clear  and  the 
arrangement  orderly.  Bancroft  and  Hildreth  represent 
different  political  ideas.  The  former  adheres  in  his  history 
to  the  Democratic  party,  and  exalts  the  importance  of  Jef- 
ferson in  the  evolution  of  our  Government.  The  latter 
makes  Hamilton  his  central  and  most  imposing  figure. 

Mr.  Hildreth  died  at  Florence,  Italy,  July  11,  1865. 

John  Foster  Kirk  (1824 ) was  secretary  to  Wil- 

liam H.  Prescott,  and  assisted  in  preparing  all  the  his- 
torian’s later  works.  He  has  published  the  History  of 
Charles  the  Bold  (1863-68),  an  admirable  work  which 
was  warmly  praised  by  E.  A.  Freeman.  He  is  now  lecturer 
on  European  history  at  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

John  Fiske  (1842 ) is  the  most  eloquent  of  histor- 

ical lecturers.  He  first  became  known  as  a student  of  phil- 
osophy and  an  interpreter  of  the  scientific  doctrine  of  evo- 
lution. He  was  recognized  as  the  ablest  representative  in 
America  of  the  philosophy  of  Herbert  Spencer. 

When  he  turned  his  attention  to  history  it  was  to  apply 
the  evolutionary  principle  to  the  explanation  of  historic 
facts. 

He  has  published  Myths  and  Myth-Makers  (1872),  Out- 
lines of  Cosmic  Philosophy  (1874),  Darwinism  and  Other  Es- 
says (1879),  Excursions  of  an  Evolutionist  (1883),  The  Destiny 
of  Man  (1884),  American  Political  Ideas  (1885),  and  The 
Critical  Period  in  American  History  (1888).  He  is  about  to 
publish  a comprehensive  History  of  the  American  People . 

John  Bach  McMaster  (1852 ) is  publishing  an  ex- 

cellent and  very  minute  History  of  the  People  of  the  United 
States.  It  was  begun  in  1870.  Two  volumes  have  already 
appeared.  Mr.  McMaster,  who  is  professor  of  American 
history  in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania,  has  also  written 
a good  Life  of  Benjamin  Franklin  in  the  American  Men-of- 
Letters  series. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe  and  Other  Southern 

Poets. 

Edgar  Allan  Poe,  after  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  is  the 
greatest  literary  genius  of  America.  His  life  and  his  writ- 
ings belong  to  an  altogether  different  world  from  that  in 
which  Emerson,  Longfellow,  and  Lowell  moved.  His  life 
was  a tragedy.  It  was  not  lived  in  conformity  with  the 
moral  law.  It  was  a constant  struggle  with  poverty,  full 
of  the  acutest  suffering,  and  embittered  by  his  sensitive 
pride. 

He  was  born  in  Boston,  January  19,  1809.  He  was  but 
two  years  old  when  his  parents,  both  of  whom  were  actors, 
died,  within  a week  of  each  other,  at  Richmond,  Va.  The 
child  was  adopted  by  Mr.  John  Allan,  a wealthy  tobacco- 
merchant  in  Richmond.  Poe  was  brought  up  in  luxury 
and  carefully  educated.  He  was  taken  to  England  and 
put  to  school  at  Stoke-Newington,  near  London.  On  his 
return  to  America  he  entered  the  University  of  Virginia 
(1826),  where  he  learned  to  gamble,  but  altogether  neglected 
his  studies.  At  the  end  of  his  first  year  he  had  con- 
tracted so  many  debts  that  he  was  removed  from  college. 
He  quarrelled  with  Mr.  Allan,  who  would  no  longer  coun- 
tenance his  bad  habits  and  reckless  extravagance.  Leav- 
ing Richmond,  he  made  his  way  to  Boston,  and  there,  in 
1827,  he  published  his  first  work,  Tamerlane  and  Other 
Poems. 


127 


128 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


In  the  following  year  he  enlisted  in  the  United  States 
army  under  the  name  of  Edgar  A.  Perry,  and  served  for 
more  than  a year  as  private  and  as  sergeant-major.  On 
the  death  of  Mrs.  Allan  he  returned  on  a furlough  to 
Richmond,  was  reconciled  to  his  foster-father,  and  through 
his  influence  was  admitted  to  West  Point.  He  was  at  first 
successful,  but  he  soon  wearied  of  the  discipline,  neglected 
his  studies,  drifted  into  his  former  intemperate  habits,  and 
was  expelled.  He  then  went  to  Baltimore,  where  he  wrote 
a prize-story — “ A Manuscript  Found  in  a Bottle  ” — which 
proved  his  first  success. 

On  the  recommendation  of  John  P.  Kennedy  he  was 
appointed  editor  of  the  Southern  Literary  Messenger  at  Rich- 
mond. He  then  began  to  write  the  .sombre  and  mys- 
terious tales  upon  which  his  future  fame  was  largely  to 
rest.  He  was  married  in  1836,  and  in  the  next  year  re- 
signed his  post  and  went  to  New  York.  In  that  city  and 
in  Philadelphia  he  engaged  in  journalism.  He  edited 
Burton's  Magazine  in  New  York,  Graham's  Magazine  in 
Philadelphia,  and  was  connected  with  the  Evening  Mirror 
and  Broadway  Journal  in  New  York.  In  every  case  he  lost 
his  position  through  intemperance  or  through  quarrelling 
with  the  publisher.  He  lived  at  this  time  a wayward  Bo- 
hemian life,  doing  all  manner  of  literary  hack-work,  and 
recklessly  staggering  from  bad  to  worse.  He  published  in 
these  years  Adventures  of  Arthur  Gordon  Pym  (1838),  Tales 
of  the  Arabesque  and  Grotesque  (1839),  The  Gold  Bug  (1840), 
Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue  (1841). 

On  the  28th  of  January,  1845,  in  the  Evening  Mirror  ap- 
peared his  poem  of  “ The  Raven.” 

In  Godey's  Lady's  Book  he  published  “ The  Literati  of 
New  York,”  a series  of  criticisms,  partly  just  and  partly 
brutal,  upon  American  writers.  They  awoke  bitter  ani- 
mosities which  are  not  yet  forgotten. 

“ Eureka,  a prose-poem,”  of  which  Poe  thought  highly, 
was  published  in  1848. 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE , ETC. 


129 


His  wife  had  died  in  1847,  and  soon  after  lie  formed  an 
engagement  with  a widow  in  Richmond.  He  started  for 
New  York  (September  30,  1849)  to  arrange  for  the  wed- 
ding, but  met  some  of  his  old  military  companions,  and  on 
the  3d  of  October  was  found  unconscious  in  a tavern  in 
Baltimore.  He  was  taken  to  a hospital,  where  he  died  of 
delirium  tremens. 

His  Poetry. — Poe’s  popularity  as  a poet  began  with 
“ The  Raven  ” (1845).  The  volume  in  which  it  was  pub- 
lished contained  also  several  lyrics  ; among  them  were  “ Val- 
ley of  Unrest,”  “ The  Sleeper,”  “ Israfel,”  “ City  in  the  Sea,” 
“ To  One  in  Paradise,”  “ Eulalie,”  and  “ The  Conqueror 
Worm.”  When  to  these  few  poems  we  add  “ Ulalume,” 
“The  Bells,”  “Annabel  Lee,”  “ The  Haunted  Palace,”  and 
“ To  Helen,”  we  have  named  almost  everything  of  value  in 
Poe’s  poetic  work. 

“ The  Raven  ” is,  to  the  general  reader,  the  one  poem 
that  Poe  wrote.  It  is  not  his  best,  but  it  is  entitled  to  an 
unique  place  in  literature.  It  is  the  poem  of  despair.  The 
bird  has  caught  its  pitiless  cry  of  “ nevermore  ” from 
some  unhappy  master  whom  unfortunate  disaster  fol- 
lowed fast  and  followed  faster,  until  his  songs  one  burden 
bore,  till  the  dirges  of  his  hope  the  melancholy  burden 
bore,  of  “ Never,  nevermore.”  The  poem  is  grotesque, 
pathetic,  tragic.  Its  melody  is  forced  and  artificial. 

It  is  needless  to  discuss  the  merits  and  the  style  of  the 
individual  poems.  They  illustrate  one  subject  and  one 
manner. 

In  defining  poetry,  Poe  wrote,  “ Music  is  the  perfection 
of  the  soul  or  the  idea  of  poetry ; the  vagueness  of  exalta- 
tion aroused  by  a sweet  air  (which  should  be  indefinite 
and  never  too  strongly  suggestive)  is  precisely  what  we 
should  aim  at  in  poetry.”  And  again  he  defined  poetry 
as  “ the  rhythmic  creation  of  the  beautiful.”  Every  line 
of  his  own  poetry  is  in  accord  with  this  definition.  He 
created  vague  images  of  beauty.  He  produced  gloomy 
y 


130 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  terrible  poems  which  appeal  to  the  imagination,  not 
to  the  intellect  nor  the  heart.  It  is  useless  to  seek  in  them 
for  philosophic  ideas  or  for  moral  lessons.  The  reader 
abandons  himself  to  a current  of  melodious  fancy.  In 
mastery  of  the  resources  of  poetic  harmony  Poe  has  had 
no  equal  in  America.  Like  Coleridge  and  Shelley,  he  was 
keenly  sensitive  to  sound ; he  heard  in  his  dreams  the 
tinkling  footfalls  of  seraphim,  and  subordinated  every- 
thing in  his  verse  to  the  delicious  effects  of  musical 
sound. 

His  Pros©  Tales. — Poetry,  Poe  said,  was  not  a pursuit 
with  him,  but  a passion.  His  best  strength  and  fullest 
imagination  were  reserved  for  his  prose  tales,  and  those 
tales  have  obtained  unbounded  popularity.  Like  his 
poems,  they  are  all  contained  within  a narrow  sphere  and 
exhibit  the  same  peculiarities.  Their  names  suggest  their 
gloomy  and  sometimes  fearful  subjects : “ The  Murders  in 
the  Rue  Morgue,”  “ The  Mystery  of  Marie  Roget,”  and 
“ The  Purloined  Letter,”  which  were  predecessors  of  the 
modern  detective  story ; “ The  Gold  Bug  ” and  “ Hans 
Pfaal,”  extravagant  tales  of  the  Jules  Verne  type;  “The 
Black  Cat,”  “ The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher,”  and  “ The 
Cask  of  Amontillado,”  sombre  stories  of  terror  and  of  pas- 
sion. 

A comparison  is  naturally  suggested  between  Haw- 
thorne and  Poe.  The  latter  never  produced  a long  and 
complete  work  like  two  or  three  of  Hawthorne’s,  but  the 
subjects  which  attracted  the  two  writers  had  something  in 
common.  Both  chose  weird  and  dreary  subjects  and  inci- 
dents of  morbid  psychology.  But  Hawthorne  was  dis- 
tinctly moral  in  all  his  writing.  Poe  had  no  moral  feeling 
whatever.  Leslie  Stephen,  the  English  critic,  has  de- 
scribed Poe  as  “ Hawthorne  and  delirium  tremens.” 

Hawthorne  paid  particular  attention  to  his  story.  Poe 
regarded  most  the  effect  which  the  story  would  produce. 
In  artistic  construction  he  was  not  far  behind  Hawthorne. 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE , ETC. 


131 


He  excelled  in  vivid  descriptions,  in  orderly  arrangement 
of  the  parts  of  his  plots,  and  in  steady,  undeviating  progress 
toward  the  climax  and  conclusion  of  a story.  His  lan- 
guage, too,  deserves  notice  because  of  his  skill  in  the  man- 
agement of  sentences  and  because  of  his  rare  gift  in  the 
choice  of  words. 

Other  Southern  Poets. — Francis  Scott  Key  (1779- 
1843)  was  a native  of  Maryland.  He  is  famous  for  a sin- 
gle poem,  “ The  Star-Spangled  Banner.” 

Richard  Henry  Wilde  was  born  in  Dublin  Sept.  24, 
1789,  and  died  in  New  Orleans,  La.,  Sept.  10,  1847.  He 
was  also  the  author  of  a single  popular  poem,  “ My  Life  is 
Like  the  Summer  Rose.” 

Edward  Coate  Pinkney  was  born  in  London  Oct.  1, 
1802,  and  died  in  Baltimore  April  11,  1828.  His  popular 
poem  was  “ The  Health,”  beginning — 

“ I fill  this  cup  to  one  made  up 
Of  loveliness  alone.” 

George  Henry  Calvert  was  born  in  Prince  George 
County,  Maryland,  Jan.  2,  1803,  and  died  in  Newport, 
R.  I.,  in  1889.  He  made  several  translations  from  the 
German  and  published  a few  original  dramas. 

Albert  Pike  (1809 ) was  born  in  Boston  Dec.  29, 

1809,  but  has  made  his  home  in  the  South.  His  best 
work  is  entitled  Hymns  to  the  Gods  (1839).  His  often- 
quoted  poem,  “ To  a Mocking-Bird,”  is  a close  copy  of 
Keats’s  “ Ode  to  a Nightingale.” 

Pendleton  Cooke  (1816-50),  a Virginian  by  birth  and 
residence,  wrote  Froissart  Ballads  and  Other  Poems.  He  is 
remembered,  however,  for  his  pretty  lyric,  “ Florence 
Vane.”  His  brother,  John  Esten  Cooke  (1830-86),  wrote 
a number  of  stories  and  books  relating  to  Virginia. 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne,  a nephew  of  the  statesman 
Robert  Y Hayne,  was  born  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  January 


132  AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 

1,  1830,  and  died  near  Augusta,  Georgia,  July  6, 1886.  He 
was  reduced  to  poverty  by  the  Civil  War.  He  did  more 
than  any  other  Southern  writer  to  awaken  an  interest  in 
the  higher  forms  of  literature.  He  has  been  called  “ The 
Laureate  of  the  South.”  He  published  Sonnets  and  Other 
Poems  (1855),  Avolio : A Legend  of  the  Island  of  Cos  (1869), 
Legends  and  Lyrics  (1872),  The  Mountain  of  the  Lovers  and 
Other  Poemis  (1873). 

Henry  Timrod  (1829-67)  was  another  fine  poetic  genius 
impoverished  by  the  Civil  War.  Like  Hayne  and  W.  G. 
Simms,  he  was  a native  of  Charleston,  S.  C.  He  wrote 
many  stirring  lyrics  during  the  war.  The  gentleness  of  his 
spirit  and  purity  of  his  thought  found  expression  in  a 
style  which,  though  not  strong,  was  singularly  melodious. 

Sidney  Lanier,  the  writer  of  widest  scholarship  and 
broadest  mind  among  the  poets  of  the  South,  was  born  in 
Macon,  Georgia,  February  3,  1842,  and  died  at  Lynn,  N. 
C.,  September  7,  1881.  His  experiences  as  a Confederate 
soldier  he  put  into  a novel  called  Tiger  Lilies  (1867).  In 
1879  he  was  appointed  lecturer  on  English  literature  in 
the  John  Hopkins  University.  His  prose  works  are 
The  Boys ’ Froissart  (1878),  The  Boys ’ King  Arthur  (1880), 
Science  of  English  Verse  (1880),  The  Boys ’ Mabinogion  (1881), 
The  Boys ’ Percy  (1882),  The  English  Novel  (1883).  His 
most  elaborate  poem  was  entitled  “ Sunrise.” 

Lanier’s  poems  are  disfigured  by  one  of  the  most  com- 
mon defects  of  our  contemporary  poetry — a constant  striv- 
ing and  straining  after  novelty  of  expression.  His  style 
is  never  restful ; it  is  always  aiming  at  sensational  effect. 
Every  line  is  loaded  with  extravagant  imagery,  and  the 
old  familiar  phrases  of  our  language  assume  under  his  im- 
patient* hands  new  and  odd  forms.  To  that  simplicity 
which  is  the  highest  beauty  Lanier  never  attained. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  Novelists. 

From  Cooper  to  the  Civil  War. 

Brown  and  Cooper  were  our  first  novelists ; Hawthorne 
and  Poe  were  our  last  romancers.  During  the  past  forty 
years  the  novel  has  steadily  advanced.  It  has  aimed  at 
the  interpretation  of  different  phases  of  American  life.  It 
has  found  its  subjects  in  all  parts  of  the  country.  It  has 
helped  forward  great  causes.  One  , novel  in  particular, 
Uncle  Tom’s  Cabin , exerted  a mighty  influence  in  the  anti- 
slavery movement.  The  development  of  the  novel  has 
been  most  rapid  since  the  Civil  War,  and  the  best  Ameri- 
can writers  of  the  present  day  find  their  most  congenial 
task  in  the  field  of  fiction. 

Catherine  Maria  Sedgwick  (1789-1867)  is  the  nearest 
of  our  novelists  to  Cooper  in  point  of  time.  Her  first  book, 
A New  England  Tale , was  published  anonymously  in  1822. 
It  was  followed  by  Redwood  (1824).  Both  were  very  pop- 
ular, and  were  translated  into  several  European  languages. 
Hope  Leslie;  or,  Early  Times  in  Massachusetts  (1827),  Clar- 
ence: A Tale  of  Our  Own  Times  (1830),  The  Linwoods ; ory 
Sixty  Years  Since  in  America  (1835),  were  among  the  best 
of  her  other  books.  They  are  all  tedious  reading.  A few 
have  some  value  from  their  graphic  pictures  of  character 
and  manners  in  Massachusetts  ; but  most  of  them  are 
marred  by  petty  sermons  upon  insignificant  matters. 

Lydia  Maria  Child  (1802-80)  was  a writer  of  much 

■ 133 


134 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


greater  force  than  Miss  Sedgwick.  Her  first  novel,  Hobo - 
mole , was  published  in  1821.  It  was  a story  of  the  early 
settlement  of  the  country.  In  the  next  year  appeared 
The  Rebels : A Tale  of  the  Revolution . Philothea , a romance 
of  Athens  in  the  age  of  Pericles,  was  published  in  1835. 
Mrs.  Child  was  a steadfast  advocate  of  the  anti-slavery 
cause,  and  wrote  much  in  defence  of  her  principles.  She 
also  wrote  many  excellent  works  for  the  young. 

John  Pendleton  Kennedy  (1795-1870)  was  the  first  of 
the  Southern  novelists.  He  had  a long  and  honorable 
political  career.  He  wrote  Swallow  Barn  (1832),  Horse-shoe 
Robinson  (1835),  and  Rob  of  the  Bowl  (1838).  The  first, 
which  was  his  best  work,  was  a story  of  rural  life  in  Vir- 
ginia ; the  second  described  South  Carolina  in  Revolution- 
ary times ; the  last  related  scenes  and  incidents  in  Mary- 
land under  the  second  Lord  Baltimore.  It  is  interesting 
to  remember  that  Kennedy  wrote  the  fourth  chapter  of  the 
second  volume  of  Thackeray’s  Virginians , which  accounts 
for  the  accuracy  of  its  descriptions  of  local  scenery. 

William  Gilmore  Simms  was  the  most  prolific  of  the 
Southern  writers.  He  was  born  in  Charleston,  S.  C.,  April 
17,  1806.  He  essayed  every  kind  of  literature,  but  was 
most  successful  in  fiction.  Many  of  his  novels  are  histori- 
cal, and  nearly  all  have  Southern  scenes.  He  followed 
Cooper  in  the  “ novel  of  adventure.”  His  stories  are  full 
of  lively  incident,  but  they  are  rude  in  style,  hastily  writ- 
ten, and  plainly  show  the  striving  of  the  author  after 
startling  effects.  His  best  novel  is  The  Yemassee  (1835). 
Out  of  the  host  of  his  works  may  be  selected  for  especial 
mention,  The  Partisan  (1835),  Richard  Hurdis  (1838),  Carl 
Werner  (1838),  Border  Beagles  (1840),  Beauchampe  (1842), 
Castle  Dismal  (1845),  The  Wigwam  and  the  Cabin  (1845), 
The  Scout  (1854),  The  Forayers  (1855),  and  The  Maroon 
(1855). 

Among  his  more  serious  works  are  the  History  of  South 
Carolina  (1840),  Life  of  Francis  Marion  (1844),  Life  of  Na- 


THE  NOVELISTS. 


135 


thanael  Greene  (1849),  and  South  Carolina  in  the  Revolution 
(1854). 

Robert  Montgomery  Bird  (1803-54)  carried  on  Coop- 
er’s “ novel  of  adventure,”  but  without  a tithe  of  Cooper’s 
ability.  He  began  his  literary  career  with  writing  trage- 
dies, one  of  which,  The  Gladiator , became  a favorite  with 
Edwin  Forrest.  His  first  two  novels,  Calavar  (1834)  and 
The  Infidel  (1835),  described  Mexico  during  the  Spanish 
conquest.  His  other  fictions  were  extravagant  accounts 
of  wild  life  in  Kentucky,  in  which  Indians,  bowie-knives, 
and  tomahawks  abounded.  Their  titles  are  significant  of 
their  contents : The  Hawks  of  Hawk  Hollow , Sheppard  Lee , 
Nick  of  the  Woods,  Peter  Pilgrim , and  Robin  Day.  They 
were  the  predecessors  of  the  dime  novel. 

William  Starbuck  Mayo  (1812 ) is  the  author  of 

Kaloolah , a novel  of  Munchausen-like  adventures  in 
Africa,  and  purporting  to  be  the  autobiography  of  one 
Jonathan  Romer.  Certain  foolish  critics  have  asserted 
that  this  novel  suggested  to  Mr.  Ridef  Haggard  some  of 
the  scenes  of  his  African  romances. 

Herman  Melville  (1819-1891)  was  born  in  New  York 
August  1,  1819.  He  lived  a life  of  adventure,  and  chron- 
icled his  romantic  experiences,  in  his  books.  In  1841  he 
embarked  in  a whaling-vessel  bound  for  the  South  Pacific. 
With  one  companion  he  deserted  while  the  ship  lay  in  the 
harbor  of  Nukahiva,  one  of  the  Marquesas  Islands. 
Among  the  mountains  of  the  island  they  fell  in  with  a 
race  of  cannibals  (the  Typees),  by  whom  they  were  kept 
in  captivity,  though  kindly  treated,  for  four  months. 
Melville  finally  escaped  on  an  Australian  whaler. 

In  1846  he  published  Typee , in  which  he  related  the 
incidents  of  his  four  months’  life  among  the  canni- 
bals. In  the  following  year  he  continued  the  narrative 
in  a second  book,  entitled  Omoo.  His  other  works  are 
Mardi , and  a Voyage  Thither  (1848),  White  Jacket ; or,  The 
World  in  a Man-of-War  (1850),  Moby  Dick;  or,  The  Whale 


136 


AMERICAN  LITERATE  RE. 


(1851),  Pierre;  or , The  Ambiguities  (1852),  The  Piazza  Tales 
(1856),  and  The  Confidence-Man  (1857). 

Sylvester  Judd  (1813-53)  was  a graduate  of  Yale  and 
a Unitarian  clergyman.  He  wrote  several  books,  but  only 
one  of  note.  The  work  which  will  always  be  associated 
with  his  name  is  Margaret : A Tale  of  the  Real  and  the  Ideal 
(1845).  Lowell  called  it  “ the  first  Yankee  book  with  the 
soul  of  Down  East  in  it.”  The  book  has  been  much  over- 
praised. It  is  not  very  interesting  reading ; it  is  crude  in 
its  style,  and  the  progress  of  the  story  is  often  interrupted 
that  a tedious  sermon  may  be  inserted.  There  is,  how- 
ever, a very  decided  value  attaching  to  those  parts  of  the 
book  which  depict  in  a faithful  and  masterly  way  the 
manner  of  life  in  an  outlying  New  England  town  directly 
after  the  close  of  the  Revolution. 

After  the  Civil  War. 

Josiah  Gilbert  Holland  was  born  in  Belchertown, 
Mass.,  July  24, 1819.  He  was  educated  at  the  Northamp- 
ton High  School.  He  studied  medicine,  and  began  the 
practice  of  his  profession  at  Springfield.  His  literary  am- 
bition led  him  to  undertake  the  publication  of  a literary 
paper,  which,  however,  lived  but  six  months.  He  taught 
school  in  Richmond,  Va.,  and  was  superintendent  of  pub- 
lic schools  in  Vicksburg,  Miss.  On  his  return  to  Massa- 
chusetts he  became  one  of  the  editors  of  the  Springfield 
Republican. 

His  first  work  was  the  History  of  Western  Massachusetts 
(1855).  Then  followed  The  Bay-Path  (1857),  Timothy  Tit- 
combos  Letters  to  Young  People  (1858),  B itter  Sweet  (1858), 
Gold-Foil  Hammered  from  Popular  Proverbs  (1859),  Miss 
Gilbert's  Career , a novel  (1860),  Lessons  in  Life  (1861),  Let- 
ters to  the  Joneses  (1863),  Plain  Talks  on  Familiar  Subjects 
(1865),  Life  of  Abraham  Lincoln  (1865),  Kathrina , a poem 
(1866),  Arthur  Bonnicastle , a novel  (1873),  The  Mistress  of 
the  Manse , a poem  (1874). 


THE  NOVELISTS . 


137 


The  Bay-Path  was  an  historical  novel  of  the  early  settle- 
ment of  the  Connecticut  Valley ; it  was  not  at  first  success- 
ful, but  the  books  which  immediately  followed  it  became 
very  popular. 

I11  1870,  Mr.  Holland  became  editor  of  Scribner's  Monthly. 
In  it  appeared  his  last  books,  “ Sevenoaks  ” (1875)  and 
“Nicholas  Minturn  ” (1876). 

He  died  in  New  York  October  21,  1881. 

Edward  Everett  Hale,  a Unitarian  clergyman,  has 
written  a large  number  of  excellent  stories.  He  was  born 
in  Boston,  Mass.,  April  3,  1822,  and  was  graduated  at  Har- 
vard in  1839.  He  has  lived  a busy  life,  engaging  actively 
in  many  philanthropic  movements.  He  has  had  a large 
experience  in  journalism,  and  has  been  much  sought  after 
as  a lecturer.  His  sermons,  too,  abound  in  fine  literary 
criticism  and  suggestions  for  public  welfare. 

His  literary  fame  rests  upon  his  short  stories.  They 
aim  to  teach  some  leading  idea,  and  are  often  lit  up  with 
sparkling  humor.  The  laughable  stdrv,  “ My  Double,  and 
How  he  Undid  me  ” (1859),  first  attracted  public  attention. 
His  most  powerful  story,  “ The  Man  Without  a Country,” 
was  published  anonymously  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  in 
1863.  It  has  become  a “ classic,”  and  deserves  its  fame 
by  reason  of  the  truthfulness  of  its  style  and  the  impres- 
sive lesson  it  conveys.  No  better  sermon  upon  patriotism 
has  ever  been  preached. 

Among  his  other  works  are  Margaret  Percival  in  Amer- 
ica (1850),  If  YeSj  and  Perhaps  (1868),  The  Ingham  Papers 
(1869),  Ten  Times  One  is  Ten  (1870),  In  His  Name  (1874), 
Philip  Nolan's  Friends  (1876),  Gone  to  Texas  (1877),  Seven 
Spanish  Cities  (1883),  and  Franklin  in  France  (1887). 

John  Townsend  Trowbridge  has  written  several  novels 
of  adventure,  some  capital  stories  for  boys,  and  a few  meri- 
torious poems. 

He  was  born  in  Ogden,  New  York,  September  18,  1827. 
His  early  life  was  a struggle  with  poverty.  His  literary 


138 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


life  began  in  New  York,  where  he  has  been  connected  with 
several  magazines  and  newspapers. 

Among  his  books  are  Father  Brighthopes  (1853),  Burr- 
cliff  (1853),  Martin  Merrivale , His  x Mark  (1854),  Iron- 
thorpe  (1855),  Neighbor  Jackwood  (1857),  The  Old  Battle- 
Ground  (1859),  Cudjo's  Cave , a story  of  the  adventures  of  a 
runaway  slave  (1864),  Coupon  Bonds , a humorous  story  of 
rural  life  in  New  England  (1871). 

In  1866,  Mr.  Trowbridge  published  The  South , a large 
book  giving  descriptions  of  the  Southern  cities  and  battle- 
fields of  the  Civil  War. 

His  best-known  jDoem  is  “ The  Vagabonds,”  originally 
published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  in  1863. 

Female  Writers  of  Fiction. — Among  the  female  novel- 
ists who  have  done  their  best  work  since  the  Civil  War  are 
Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney,  Rose  Terry  Cooke,  Rebecca 
Harding  Davis,  Louise  Chandler  Moulton,  Harriet 
Elizabeth  Spofford,  Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps,  Con- 
stance Fenimore  Woolson,  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett, 
Sarah  Orne  Jewett,  and  Mary  Noailles  Murfree. 

Adeline  D.  T.  Whitney  (1824 ) has  written  many 

stories  for  young  people.  Among  the  best  of  them  are 
Boys  at  Chequasset  (1862),  Faith  Gartney's  Girlhood  (1868), 
The  Gayworthys  (1865),  A Summer  in  Leslie  Goldthwaite's 
Life  (1866),  We  Girls  (1870),  Real  Folks  (1871).  She  has 
also  written  a few  volumes  of  poems — Pansies  (1872)  and 
Bird  Talk  (1887). 

Rose  Terry  Cooke  (1827 ) has  written  many  short 

stories  and  magazine  sketches,  mainly  upon  New  England 
village-life.  Miss  Lucinda , Ann  Potter's  Lesson , Turkey 
Tracks , The  Deacon's  Week , etc.  are  delightfully  humorous 
and  genuinely  truthful. 

Her  poems  show  greater  melody  than  Mrs.  Whitney’s. 

“ The  Two  Villages  ” (one  of  the  living,  the  other  of  the 
dead)  is  the  best  known  of  her  poems. 

Rebecca  Harding  Davis  (1831 ) has  found  her  sub- 


THE  NOVELISTS. 


139 


jects  among  the  lower  classes  of  society.  Her  first  im- 
portant story  was  Life  in  the  Iron  Mills  (1861).  She  has 
since  published  Margaret  Howth  (1861),  Waiting  for  the 
Verdict  (1867),  Dallas  Galbraith  (1868),  A Laiv  Unto  Her- 
self (1878). 

Louise  Chandler  Moulton  (1835 ) has  contributed 

to  the  New  York  Tribune  and  other  papers.  She  has  writ- 
ten in  both  prose  and  poetry,  but  has  been  most  successful 
with  her  children’s  stories. 

Harriet  Elizabeth  Prescott  Spofford  (1835- ) 

has  written  more  vivid  and  more  original  stories  than  any 
female  writer  of  our  time.  Her  reputation  was  made  by 
an  admirable  story  called  “ In  a Cellar,”  published  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  in  1859.  Mrs.  Spofford’s  stories  show 
wide  reading  and  a remarkable  mastery  of  language  and 
intense  feeling.  The  descriptions  of  nature  are  luxuriant 
and  profuse.  Among  her  books  are  Sir  Rohan's  Ghost 
(1859),  The  Thief  in  the  Night  (1872),  Marquis  of  Carabas 
(1882),  Hester  Stanley  at  St.  Marks  (18$3). 

Elizabeth  Stuart  Phelps  (1844 ) is  the  author  of 

The  Gates  Ajar  (1868),  The  Silent  Partner  (1870),  An  Old 
Maid's  Paradise  (1879),  Seeded  Orders  (1879),  and  Jack  the 
Fisherman  (1887). 

Frances  Hodgson  Burnett  was  born  in  Manchester, 
England,  in  1849.  Her  parents  came  to  America  in  1865 
and  settled  in  Tennessee. 

Her  first  novel,  That  Lass  o’  Loivrie's , is  still  her  best.  It 
is  a story  of  the  Lancashire  mines,  and  written  in  the  dia- 
lect with  which  the  author  had  been  familiar  as  a child. 
It  was  issued  in  Scribner's  Magazine  and  published  in  book 
form  in  1877.  Her  other  novels  are  Haworth's  (1879), 
Louisiana  (1880),  A Fair  Barbarian  (1880),  Through  One 
Administration  (1883),  and  the  very  popular  Little  Lord, 
Fauntleroy  (1886). 

Sarah  Orne  Jewett  (1849 ) is  the  author  of 

Deephaven  (1877),  Old  Friends  and  New  (1879),  Country  By- 


140 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ways  (1881),  A Country  Doctor  (1884),  A Marsh  Island 
(1885). 

Mary  Noailles  Murfree,  who  writes  under  the  name 
of  “ Charles  Egbert  Craddock,”  was  born  near  Murfrees- 
borough,  Tenn.,  in  1850.  Her  stories  are  of  the  Tennessee 
mountains,  full  of  local  color  and  in  the  local  dialect. 
They  are — In  the  Tennessee  Mountains  (1884),  Where  the  Bat- 
tie  was  Fought  (1884),  Down  the  Ravine  (1885),  The  Prophet 
of  the  Great  Smoky  Mountains  (1885),  In  the  Clouds  (1886). 

Howells  and  James. — The  two  men  who  best  repre- 
sent the  American  novel  at  the  present  time  are  William 
Dean  Howells  and  Henry  James,  Jr.  Both  have  a def- 
inite theory  of  the  function  of  the  novel,  and  both  are  mas- 
ters of  style.  The  theory  which  they  entertain  of  their 
art  has  won  for  them  the  name  of  “ realists.”  They  be- 
lieve that  it  is  not  the  province  of  the  novel  to  tell  a story, 
that  the  stories  have  all  been  told,  and  that  the  novelist 
must  aim  to  produce  minute  studies  of  certain  aspects  of 
life  and  types  of  character.  The  books  they  have  produced 
are  rather  photographic  than  artistic.  They  shun  impos- 
ing characters  and  thrilling  incidents,  and  make  much  of 
uninteresting  people  and  the  ordinary  events  of  our  social 
life.  In  reading  either  novelist,  but  particularly  Mr.  How- 
ells, we  feel  that  we  are  in  the  hands  of  an  expert  stylist ; 
though  we  sometimes  weary  of  the  monotonously  clever 
manner,  and  wish  for  larger  subjects  and  more  sympa- 
thetic treatment. 

William  Dean  Howells  was  born  in  Martin’s  Ferry, 
Ohio,  March  1, 1837.  He  learned  to  set  type  in  his  father’s 
newspaper  office  before  he  was  twelve  years  old.  After  a 
varied  experience  as  compositor  and  journalist  he  pub- 
lished, with  John  J.  Piatt,  in  1860,  Poems  of  Two  Friends . 
He  was  appointed  consul  to  Venice  by  President  Lincoln. 
During  his  four  years’  residence  in  that  city  he  mastered 
the  Italian  language  and  literature,  developed  his  own 
exquisite  style,  and  made  the  observations  which  took 


THE  NOVELISTS. 


141 


shape  in  Venetian  Life  (1866)  and  Italian  Journeys  (1867). 
From  1872  to  1881  he  was  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly , 
and  since  1886  he  has  conducted  the  “ Editor’s  Study  ” in 
Harper’s  Magazine. 

His  first  attempt  at  story-telling  was  Their  Wedding 
Journey  (1871).  It  was  a transcript  of  real  life,  the  de- 
scription of  a bridal  trip  across  New  York  State.  A more 
complete  novel  was  A Chance  Acquaintance  (1873),  which 
is  a description  of  a holiday  trip  upon  the  St.  Lawrence 
to  Quebec  and  the  Saguenay. 

A Foregone  Conclusion  was  published  in  1874,  A Counter- 
feit Presentment  in  1877,  The  Lady  of  the  Aroostook  in  1878. 

The  Undiscovered  Country  (1880)  was  a study  in  Spirit- 
ualism in  New  England. 

His  best  novel,  A Modern  Instance , appeared  in  1883. 
His  other  books  are — A Fearful  Responsibility  (1882),  Dr. 
Breen’s  Practice  (1883),  A Woman’s  Reason  (1884),  The 
Rise  of  Silas  Lapham  (1885),  Tuscan  Cities  (1885),  The  Min- 
ister’s Charge  (1886),  Indian  Summer  (1886). 

He  has  also  written  a number  of  admirable  little  com- 
edies, “ trifles  light  as  air.”  Such  are — The  Parlor  Car , 
The  Sleeping  Chr,  The  Elevator , and  The  Register. 

Henry  James,  Jr.,  was  born  in  New  York  City  April 
15,  1843.  He  came  of  a literary  family,  and  was  carefully 
educated  in  foreign  cities.  His  father  was  a distinguished 
theologian,  and  his  elder  brother  is  now  professor  of  phil- 
osophy in  Harvard  College. 

Mr.  James  is  the  originator  of  the  international  novel.  He 
has  lived  so  much  abroad  that  he  is  as  much  European  as 
American.  His  style  and  his  subjects  have  alike  been  in- 
fluenced by  his  wide  study  of  French  literature.  Most  of 
his  works  exhibit  the  contrast  between  American  and  Eu- 
ropean life.  When  the  scene  is  laid  in  Europe  the  chief 
characters  are  American  travellers  coming  for  the  first  time 
in  contact  with  the  society  of  the  Old  World.  Such  books 
are  Daisy  Miller , Pension  Beaurepas , and  A Bundle  of  Letters . 


142  A MERIC  A N LITER  A TURE. 

When  the  scene  is  laid  in  America  the  points  of  difference 
between  European  and  American  manners  are  indicated 
by  introducing  among  the  characters  foreigners  and  trav- 
elled Americans.  Instances  are,  The  Europeans  and  an 
International  Episode. 

The  first  of  his  long  novels  was  Roderick  Hudson  (1875). 
A Passionate  Pilgrim  and  Other  Stories  (1875)  was  a collec- 
tion of  his  stories  in  the  magazines.  It  contained,  among 
others,  “ The  Last  of  the  Valerii  ” and  the  “ Madonna  of 
the  Future.”  The  American  appeared  in  1878,  and  in  the 
same  year  also  Daisy  Miller  was  published.  In  1878,  Mr. 
James  published  The  Europeans  and  an  excellent  volume 
of  criticism  entitled  French  Poets  and  Novelists. 

His  other  works  are — Washington  Square  (1880),  The 
Portrait  of  a Lady  (1881),  Portraits  of  Places  (1884),  Tales  of 
Three  Cities  (1884),  Princess  Casamassima  (1886),  and  The 
Bostonians , like  The  Undiscovered  Country , a study  in  New 
England  Spiritualism  (1886). 

Other  Novelists. — Edward  Eggleston  (1837 ) has 

written  a few  novels  describing  life  in  Southern  Indiana. 
The  first  and  best  was  The  Hoosier  Schoolmaster  (1871). 
The  others  were  the  End  of  the  World  (1872),  Mystery  of 
Metropolisville  (1873),  The  Circuit-Rider  (1874),  and  The 
Hoosier  School-hoy  (1883). 

George  W.  Cable  (1844 ) has  found  his  subjects 

in  Louisiana.  He  has  tried  to  picture  the  social  life  along 
the  Gulf,  and  particularly  to  depict  the  manners  and 
traditions  of  the  Creoles.  His  books  are — Old  Creole  Days 
(1879),  The  Grandissimes  (1880),  Madame  Delphine  (1881), 
Dr.  Sevier  (1883),  The  Creoles  of  Louisiana  (1884),  and  The 
Silent  South  (1885).  Mr.  Cable  has  succeeded  in  producing 
readable  and  artistic  works,  but  they  are  not  to  be  taken 
as  accurate  representations  of  Creole  life. 

Francis  Marion  Crawford  (1845 ),  a son  of 

Thomas  Crawford,  the  sculptor,  is  the  author  of  Mr.  Isaacs 
(1882),  Doctor  Claudius  (1883),  A Roman  Singer  (1884),  To 


THE  NOVELISTS. 


143 


Leeward  (1884),  An  American  Politician  (1885),  Zoroaster 
(1885),  Tale  of  a Lonely  Parish  (1886),  and  Saracinesca 
(1886). 

His  works  are  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  student  of 
Italy.  They  are  infused  with  Italian  life  and  spirit,  and 
their  very  language  is  curiously  affected  by  the  author’s 
intimate  knowledge  of  Italian. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

After  the  Civil  War. 

The  Poets. 

The  Civil  War  of  1861  produced  but  little  literature 
of  note.  A number  of  battle-pieces  and  a few  occasional 
poems  exhaust  its  contributions  to  our  literature.  The 
years  from  1830  to  1860  had  been  most  fruitful  in  good 
books  in  both  prose  and  poetry.  Since  the  war  the  num- 
ber of  writers  and  of  readers  has  greatly  increased,  but  the 
works  produced  have  been  of  a sensibly  inferior  quality. 

Many  meritorious  histories  have  been  written  of  the  na- 
tional struggle,  among  which  those  by  Greeley,  Stephens, 
and  Draper  are  especially  deserving  of  mention.  Wilson’s 
Rise  and  Fall  of  the  Slave  Poiver  in  America  is  an  indispen- 
sable aid  to  the  student  of  the  events  that  culminated 
in  the  Civil  War.  Interesting  historic  memorials  have 
also  been  produced  by  Generals  Sherman,  Grant,  and 
Sheridan. 

1.  Poetry  of  the  War. — As  the  Revolutionary  War 
gave  rise  to  numerous  patriotic  ballads,  so  the  Civil  War 
produced  several  patriotic  lyrics.  Among  the  most  famous 
of  the  latter  are  Whittier’s  “ Barbara  Frietchie T.  Bu- 
chanan Read’s  “ Sheridan’s  Ride;”  Francis  M.  Finch’s 
“The  Blue  and  the  Gray,”  a Decoration  Day  poem; 
Julia  Ward  Howe’s  “Battle-Hymn  of  the  Republic;” 
James  R.  Randall’s  “ Maryland,  my  Maryland,”  which 
144 


THE  POETS. 


145 


has  been  called  “ the  Marseillaise  of  the  Confederate 
cause ;”  Ethel  Lynn  Beers’s  “ All  Quiet  along  the  Poto- 
mac;” George  Frederick  Root’s  “ Battle-Cry  of  Freedom;” 
and  Albert  Pike’s  “ Dixie.” 

Lowell’s  “ Commemoration  Ode  ” is  the  best  literary 
memorial  of  the  war,  but  the  poets  who  distinctly  belong 
to  the  struggle,  and  derive  whatever  fame  they  have  from 
it,  are  Henry  Howard  Brownell  and  Forceythe  Willson. 

Henry  Howard  Brownell  (1820-72)  was  appointed 
acting  ensign  on  the  flag-ship  “ Hartford  ” by  Admiral 
Farragut.  He  was  in  the  battle  of  Mobile  Bay  and  in  the 
“ passage  of  the  forts  ” below  New  Orleans.  The  former 
he  commemorated  in  the  “ Bay  Fight;”  the  latter,  in  the 
“ River  Fight.”  They  are  his  best  poems.  He  has  been 
called  by  Dr.  Holmes  “ Our  Battle  Laureate.”  He  pub- 
lished Lyrics  of  a Day  (1864)  and  War  Lyrics  (1866). 

Forceythe  Willson  (1837-67)  was  the  author  of  the 
very  familiar  poem  “ The  Old  Sergeant.”  He  wrote  also  a 
poem  on  the  fight  at  Fort  Henry,  entitled  the  “ Rhyme  of 
the  Master’s  Mate.” 

2.  Female  Poets. — Julia  Ward  Howe,  who  wrote  the 
magnificent  “ Battle-Hymn  of  the  Republic,”  was  born  in 
New  York  City,  May  27,  1819,  and  in  1843  married  Dr. 
Samuel  G.  Howe,  the  philanthropist  and  educator  of 
Laura  Bridgman. 

During  the  war  the  rude  but  thrilling  threnody  of 
“John  Brown’s  body  lies  a-mouldering  in  the  grave” 
was  heard  in  every  Northern  camp,  and  to  its  stirring 
melody  the  regiments  kept  time  as  they  marched.  Mrs. 
Howe  in  her  majestic  “ Battle-Hymn  ” furnished  the  cho- 
rus with  noble  words. 

Mrs.  Howe’s  other  works  are  Passion  Flowers  (1854), 
Words  for  the  Hour  (1857),  A Trip  to  Cuba  (1860),  Later 
Lyrics  (1866),  Life  of  Margaret  Fuller  (1883). 

Among  the  women  who,  like  Mrs.  Howe,  have  added 
grace  and  value  to  our  contemporary  literature,  are  Alice 
10 


146 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


and  Phoebe  Cary,  Margaret  Preston,  Lucy  Larcom,  Helen 
Hunt,  Celia  Thaxter,  and  Emma  Lazarus. 

Alice  and  Phoebe  Cary,  the  two  sister-poets  described 
by  Whittier  in  “ The  Singer,”  were  born  in  Ohio — Alice  in 
1820,  Phoebe  in  1824.  In  1852  the  sisters  removed  to  New 
York  and  devoted  themselves  to  literary  work.  Their  house 
in  New  York  attracted  the  best  minds  of  America.  Alice 
wrote  Clovernook  Papers , an  account  of  her  home-life  in 
Ohio  (1851),  Pictures  of  Country  Life  (1859),  Lyrics  and 
Hymns  (1866),  Snow-berries  (1869).  The  Poems  of  Alice  and 
Phoebe  Cary  were  published  in  1850.  Both  sisters  died  in 
1871. 

Margaret  Preston  was  born  in  Philadelphia  in  1825, 
and  now  lives  in  Lexington,  Virginia.  Her  principal  book 
of  poems  was  Beechen  Brook  (1866).  Two  of  her  poems, 
“ Stonewall  Jackson’s  Grave  ” and  “ Slain  in  Battle,”  have 
obtained  considerable  popularity. 

Lucy  Larcom  (1826 ) wrote  several  patriotic  poems 

during  the  Civil  War.  She  was  encouraged  in  her  literary 
efforts  by  John  G.  Whittier.  Her  books  are  Ships  in  the 
Mist  (1859),  Poems  (1868),  Wild  Roses  of  Cape  Ann  (1880). 

Celia  Thaxter  (1836 ) has  lived  the  greater  part 

of  her  life  at  Appledore,  upon  the  Isles  of  Shoals.  She 
has  caught  the  physiology  of  the  sea,  and  expressed  it 
in  literature  better  and  more  thoroughly  than  any  other 
American  poet.  Her  books  are  Among  the  Isles  of  Shoals 
(1873),  Driftweed  (1878),  Cruise  of  the  Mystery  (1886).  “The 
Sandpiper,”  “ The  Wreck  of  the  Pocahontas,”  “The  Watch 
of  Boon  Island,”  and  “ The  Spaniards’  Graves  ” are  among 
the  best  of  her  shorter  poems. 

Emma  Lazarus  (1849-87)  published  several  excellent 
poems,  translations,  and  essays.  Her  principal  book  was 
entitled  Songs  of  a Semite. 

Helen  Fiske  Hunt  Jackson  was  one  of  the  foremost 
female  writers  of  America.  She  wrote  under  the  signature 
of  “ H.  H.”  in  both  prose  and  poetry.  She  was  born  in 


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147 


Amherst,  Mass.,  October  18,  1831,  and  died  in  San  Fran- 
cisco August  12,  1885.  She  was  a daughter  of  Professor 
Nathan  Fiske  of  Amherst,  and  she  married,  in  1852,  Cap- 
tain Edward  B.  Hunt  of  the  United  States  army,  who  in 
1863  was  killed  while  experimenting  with  a submarine 
battery  of  his  own  invention.  Her  second  husband  was 
William  S.  Jackson,  a banker  of  Colorado  Springs. 

She  published  Verses  by  H.  H.  (1870),  Bits  of  Travel 
(1872),  Bits  of  Travel  at  Home , in  Colorado,  California,  and 
New  England  (1878),  Bits  of  Talk  about  Home  Matters 
(1876),  The  Hunter  Cats  of  Connorloa  (1884),  Zeph  (1885), 
Between -Whiles  (1887). 

She  wrote  earnestly  in  defence  of  the  Indians.  Two  of 
her  books,  A Century  of  Dishonor  (1881)  and  Ramona  (1884), 
are  full  of  indignation  at  the  unrighteous  treatment  of  the 
Indians. 

Her  style  was  fresh,  vigorous,  and  often  brilliant;  her 
poetry  contemplative,  subtle,  and  original.  No  other  pro- 
ductions of  the  mind  of  woman  in  America  have  been 
marked  by  such  high  beauty  and  impetuous  feeling. 

3.  The  Western  Poets. — California  was  purchased  by 
the  United  States  in  1848,  two  years  after  the  annexa- 
tion of  Texas.  The  report  of  the  discovery  of  gold 
caused  a great  rush  to  the  Pacific  coast.  Cities  sprang 
up  as  in  a night.  A miscellaneous  and  turbulent  popu- 
lation swarmed  in  San  Francisco  and  “ prospected  ” upon 
streams  and  mountains.  “ The  Argonauts  of  ’49  ” lived  a 
desperate  life  of  crime  and  toil.  The  lawless,  reckless  life 
of  the  gold-hunters — millionaires  to-day  and  beggars  to- 
morrow— was  novel,  picturesque,  and  dramatic.  It  fur- 
nished great  possibilities  to  a poet  or  novelist.  It  was 
“ an  era  replete  with  a certain  heroic  Greek  poetry.” 

In  a few  years  a literature  arose  which  aimed  to  ex- 
press and  to  interpret  the  rude,  romantic  society  of  the 
gold-fields.  Miners,  gamblers,  stage-drivers,  Indians,  Mex- 
icans, cow-boys,  Chinese  coolies,  ’longshoremen,  figured  in 


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AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  rough  and  vigorous  sketches  of  the  new  writers.  Not 
only  were  the  characters  new,  but  the  scenery  was  unusual 
in  literature.  The  groves  of  big  trees,  the  stupendous 
Sierras,  the  vast  canons,  the  alkaline  deserts,  stimulated 
and  fascinated  the  literary  imagination. 

The  writers  who  have  made  best  use  in  both  prose  and 
poetry  of  this  lawless  civilization  are  Bret  Harte  and  Joa- 
quin Miller.  Both  have  naturally  obtained  wide  popular- 
ity. The  originality  of  their  subjects  and  the  vehemence 
and  truthfulness  of  their  style  have  won  them  readers  and 
admirers  in  many  lands.  Foreign  critics  are  disposed  to 
catch  at  such  writers  as  the  only  really  American  authors. 
But  a sectional  literature  cannot  be  a national  literature, 
and  it  is  not  American  to  talk  slang,  wear  revolvers,  and 
rase  out  the  ten  commandments.  The  representative 
American  man  of  letters  cannot  be  “ one  of  the  roughs,” 
though  he  may  seek  to  depict  all  phases  of  life  that  have 
contributed  to  our  national  character  and  history. 

Francis  Bret  Harte  (1839 ) was  born  in  Albany, 

N.  Y.,  Aug.  25, 1839.  He  was  quite  young  when  his  father, 
who  was  a teacher  and  a ripe  scholar,  died,  leaving  his 
family  with  but  little  means.  The  son  received  a com- 
mon-school education,  and  in  1854  went  to  California, 
where  he  was  successively  school-teacher,  miner,  compos- 
itor, and  editor.  In  1868  he  founded  The  Overland  Monthly , 
a literary  journal  displaying  on  its  title-page  the  appro- 
priate vignette  of  a grizzly  bear  crossing  a railway-track. 
In  this  magazine  appeared  his  first  stories  of  mining 
life,  written  for  the  most  part  in  the  audacious  slang  of 
the  camps.  The  second  number  contained  “ The  Luck  of 
Roaring  Camp,”  the  next  “ The  Outcasts  of  Poker  Flat.” 
His  first  noteworthy  poem  was  “ The  Heathen  Chinee,”  in 
September,  1870.  Other  remarkable  poems  are  “ Dow’s 
Flat,”  “John  Burns  at  Gettysburg,”  “Chiquita,”  “The 
Row  upon  the  Stanislaw.” 

Among  his  books  are  Condensed  Novels  (1867),  East  and 


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149 


West  Poems  (1871),  Mrs.  Skaggs’s  Husband  (1872),  Tales  of 
the  Argonauts  (1875),  Gabriel  Conroy  (1876),  Echoes  of  the 
Foothills  (1879),  The  Twins  of  Table  Mountain  (1879),  In  the 
Carquinez  Woods  (1883),  Snow-Bound  at  Eagle's  (1886),  A 
Millionaire  of  Rough  and  Ready  (1887). 

Joaquin  Miller  (1841 ),  as  he  lias  chosen  to  call 

himself,  although  his  real  name  is  Cincinnatus  Hiner 
Miller,  was  born  in  the  Wabash  district  of  Indiana. 
His  life  has  been  full  of  thrilling  incident  and  desperate 
adventure.  He  accompanied  his  parents  to  Oregon  when 
he  was  thirteen  years  old,  worked  on  the  farm  for  three 
years,  and  then  became  a miner  in  California.  He  went 
with  Walker  into  Nicaragua,  and  lived  for  a while  with 
a tribe  of  savages.  “ He  was  miner,  astrologer,  poet,  fili- 
buster, Indian  sachem,  and  roaming  herdsman.”  He  re- 
turned to  Oregon  in  1860  and  began  the  study  of  law. 
The  next  year  he  was  miners’  express-messenger  in  the 
gold  districts  of  Idaho.  He  edited  in  Lane  county,  Ore- 
gon, a weekly  newspaper  which  was  suppressed  for  disloy- 
alty. From  1866  to  1870  he  was  county  judge  in  Eastern 
Oregon.  At  this  period  his  literary  career  began.  He  had 
very  early  begun  to  compose  verses,  and  had  recited  them 
at  times  to  the  miners  with  whom  he  lived.  He  succeeded 
in  producing  rude  but  forcible  lines,  although  he  was  igno- 
rant of  the  laws  of  versification.  In  1870  he  collected  sev- 
eral of  his  better  poems  and  published  them  in  a volume 
entitled  Songs  of  the  Sierras.  In  the  same  year  he  went 
abroad.  On  his  return  he  lived  for  some  years  as  a 
journalist  in  Washington,  but  in  1887  removed  to  Cali- 
fornia, where  he  now  lives. 

His  poems  are  Songs  of  the  Sunlands  (1873),  Songs  of  the 
Desert  (1875),  Songs  of  Italy  (1878),  Songs  of  the  Mexican 
Seas  (1887),  and  With  Walker  in  Nicaragua. 

Among  his  prose  works  are  The  Danites  in  the  Sierras 
(1881),  Shadow's  of  Shasta  (1881),  ’ J9 ; or,  The  Gold-seekers  of 
the  Sierras  (1884).  He  has  also  written  a play  called  The 


150 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Danites . The  assumed  name,  “ Joaquin,”  under  which  he 
writes,  was  the  name  of  a Mexican  brigand  whom  he 
defended. 

Miller  has  not  the  dramatic  power  nor  the  fine  liter- 
ary skill  of  Bret  Harte.  He  fails  to  see  the  native 
generosity  and  noble  qualities  which  lie  hidden  beneath 
the  vicious  lives  of  outlaws.  His  chief  excellence  is 
his  gorgeous  pictures  of  the  gigantic  scenery  of  the 
Sierras. 

John  James  Piatt  (1835 ),  like  Edward  Eggleston, 

is  a native  of  Indiana,  and  is  the  poet  of  the  prairie  and 
the  farmstead.  He  stands  midway  between  the  Eastern 
and  the  Western  writers,  and  has  a distinctly  local  and 
original  flavor.  He  is  reflective  where  the  Western  poets 
are  dramatic.  His  verse  is  simple  and  quiet  where  theirs 
is  vehement  and  passionate. 

His  first  book  was  Poems  of  Two  Friends , published  in 
conjunction  with  W.  D.  Howells  (1860).  He  has  also 
written  The  Nests  at  Washington  (1864),  Poems  in  Sunshine 
and  Firelight  (1866),  Western  Windows , his  best  book  (1869), 
Landmarks , and  Other  Poems  (1871),  Idyls  and  Lyrics  of  the 
Ohio  Valley  (1884),  At  the  Holy  Well  (1887). 

His  wife,  Sarah  Morgan  Bryan  (1836 ),  has  also 

published  a number  of  poems,  which  are  better  known 
than  the  verses  of  any  female  writer  of  the  West.  Among 
her  books  are  A Woman's  Poems  (1871),  A Voyage  to  the 
Fortunate  Isles  (1874),  That  New  World , and  Other  Poems 
(1876),  Poems  in  Company  with  Children  (1877),  An  Irish 
Garland  (1884),  In  Primrose  Time  (1886),  and  Child's  World- 
Ballads  (1887). 

4.  Bayard  Taylor  and  his  Friends. — Between  the  time 
of  the  Knickerbockers  and  the  Civil  War,  literature  occu- 
pied but  a small  place  in  the  history  of  New  York.  After 
the  Civil  War  the  wealth  of  the  commercial  centre  attracted 
men  of  letters  and  created  a literary  society. 

The  most  prominent  figure  in  all  departments  of  lit- 


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151 


erature  was  Bayard  Taylor,  a Pennsylvanian  who  made 
New  York  his  literary  headquarters.  Among  his  friends 
whose  names  are  memorable  in  our  contemporary  litera- 
ture were  Richard  Henry  Stoddard,  Edmund  Clarence 
Stedman,  and  Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich.  In  Pennsylvania 
T.  Buchanan  Read,  George  Henry  Boker,  and  Charles  G. 
Leland  were  closely  associated  with  Taylor. 

Bayard  Taylor  (1825-78)  was  born  in  Kennett  Square? 
Chester  county,  Pennsylvania,  January  11,  1825.  After  a 
few  years  of  study  in  country  schools  he  was  apprenticed 
to  a printer  in  West  Chester.  Pie  had  already  begun  to 
compose  verses,  and  in  1844,  when  meditating  a trip  to 
Europe,  published  his  first  book,  Ximena , and  Other  Poems. 
In  the  same  year  he  started  abroad  with  less  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  and  with  an  order  from  Horace 
Greeley  for  letters  to  the  Tribune.  He  was  gone  two  years, 
in  which  time  he  travelled  over  Europe  on  foot  and  sup- 
ported himself  entirely  by  his  literary  correspondence,  for 
which  he  received  five  hundred  dollars.  On  his  return  he 
published  Views  Afoot;  or , Europe  as  Seen  with  Knapsack 
and  Staff  (1846).  Six  editions  were  called  for  within  a 
year,  and  it  is  still  one  of  the  most  delightful  books  of 
travel  in  the  language. 

A Traveller. — Taylor  has  had  few  superiors  as  a writer 
of  books  of  travel.  He  was  always  fresh,  easy,  and  natu- 
ral. His  wandering  feet  pressed  the  soil  of  all  the  conti- 
nents and  his  observing  eyes  saw  the  strange  and  beautiful 
things  of  the  world  from  the  equator  to  the  frozen  North 
and  South.  His  robust  constitution,  adventurous  spirit, 
and  buoyant  temper  admirably  equipped  him  for  a trav- 
eller. 

When  gold  was  discovered  in  California,  Taylor  uras 
sent  out  by  the  Tribune  to  visit  the  diggings  and  write 
letters  upon  the  discoveries.  His  correspondence  was 
collected  in  Eldorado;  or,  Adventures  in  the  Path  of  Empire 
(1850).  It  is  the  record  of  six  months’  life  in  the  savage, 


152 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lawless  society  of  the  mines,  and  is  a faithful  picture  of 
the  gold-diggings  and  of  California  in  ’49. 

In  1851  he  again  went  abroad  as  a correspondent,  visited 
Egypt  and  the  East,  climbed  the  Himalayas,  and  spent 
some  time  in  China  and  Japan.  He  returned  after  two 
years,  and  published,  as  the  results  of  his  travels,  A Jour- 
ney to  Central  Africa  (1854),  The  Lands  of  the  Saracens  (1854), 
and  A Visit  to  Lidia,  China , and  Japan  (1855). 

Taylor  at  this  time  was  much  in  demand  as  a lecturer, 
but,  the  roving  disposition  being  still  strong  in  him,  he 
started  in  1856  for  the  north  of  Europe.  He  visited  Nor- 
way and  Lapland,  travelled  five  hundred  miles  within  the 
Arctic  Circle,  saw  the  midnight  sun,  and  in  1858  published 
Northern  Travel . 

His  other  books  of  travel  were  Travels  in  Greece  and 
Rome  (1859),  At  Home  and  Abroad  (1860),  Colorado  (1867), 
Byways  of  Europe  (1869),  Travels  in  Arabia  (1872),  Egypt 
and  Iceland  (1874). 

A Poet, — But  it  was  not  as  a traveller  that  Taylor  de- 
sired to  be  remembered.  His  steadfast  ambition  was  to 
be  a poet.  He  hated  the  lecture-platform  and  shrank 
from  the  crowds  who  stared  at  him  as  the  “ great  Ameri- 
can traveller.”  He  depended  for  his  living  upon  his  quick 
and  ready  pen,  which  multiplied  lectures  and  prose  books, 
but  he  depended  for  his  fame  upon  the  silent  hours  dedi- 
cated to  poetry.  His  industry  was  extraordinary.  He 
was  always  doing  the  work  of  several  men.  His  mind 
was  teeming  with  new  plans.  He  was  always  writing — 
“ prose  by  daylight  and  poetry  by  night,  a new  tandem 
which  I never  drove  before,  but  it  goes  smoothly  and 
well.” 

His  first  volume  of  poems  was  Rhymes  of  Travel , Ballads , 
and  Other  Poems  (1848).  His  second  volume,  A Book  of 
Romances , Lyrics , and  Songs  (1851),  contained  some  of  his 
best  poems.  Poems  of  the  Orient  appeared  in  1854. 

His  other  poems  were  The  Poet's  Journal  (1862),  The 


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153 


Picture  of  St.  John  (1869),  The  Masque  of  the  Gods  (1872), 
Lars:  a Pastoral  of  Norway  (1873),  The  Prophet:  a Tragedy 
(1874),  Home- Pastorals,  idyls  of  Pennsylvania  (1875),  The 
National  Ode , recited  on  the  4th  of  July,  1876,  and  Prince 
Deukalion : a Lyrical  Drama , describing  the  progress  of 
humanity  (1878). 

A Novelist. — Taylor  wrote  four  novels:  Hannah  Thur- 
ston (1863),  John  Godfrey’s  Fortunes  (1864),  The  Story  of 
Kennett  (1866),  Joseph  and  his  Friend  (1870).  The  second 
described  New  York  scenes,  but  the  first  and  third  were 
entirely  Pennsylvanian.  The  third  is  much  the  best  as  a 
work  of  art. 

A Translator. — Taylor  was  deeply  read  in  German  lit- 
erature. He  made  a careful  study  of  Goethe,  and  made 
the  most  successful  of  the  many  translations  of  Faust.  It 
alone  would  be  sufficient  to  preserve  his  fame.  It  ranks 
with  such  masterly  versions  of  great  poems  as  Longfellow’s 
Dante  and  Bryant’s  Homer. 

His  Last  Years. — He  had  married  Marie  Plansen  of 
Gotha  in  1857,  and  a Jew  years  later  built  his  spacious 
country  home,  “ Cedarcroft.”  In  1877  he  was  appointed 
minister  to  Berlin.  He  died  there  Dec.  19,  1878. 

His  literary  life  occupied  but  thirty-four  years.  In  that 
time  he  wrote  thirty-seven  volumes.  He  entered  almost 
every  department  of  literature,  and  always  displayed  high, 
though  never  the  highest,  literary  ability.  His  Life  has 
been  written  and  his  letters  edited  by  Marie  Hansen-Tay- 
lor  and  Horace  E.  Scudder. 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard  (1825 ),  although  born 

in  New  England  (in  Massachusetts),  has  made  New  York 
his  home,  and  has  been  there  a valued  and  influential 
member  of  the  alert  literary  society  of  which  Bayard 
Taylor  was  the  most  versatile  and  striking  figure. 

He  was  poor,  was  educated  in  the  public  schools  of 
New  York,  and  was  employed  for  some  years  in  an  iron- 
foundry.  He  read  eagerly,  and  soon  became  acquainted 


154 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


with  the  best  authors  and  familiar  with  the  styles  of  Eng- 
lish poetry.  In  1849  he  printed  a small  edition  of  his 
poems  in  a volume  called  Footprints . 

His  other  works  are  Songs  of  Summer  (1857),  Life,  Travels , 
and  Boohs  of  Alexander  von  Humboldt  (1860),  The  King’s  Bell 
(1862),  Abraham  Lincoln : an  Horatian  Ode  (1865),  Putnam 
the  Brave  (1869),  The  Booh  of  the  East  (1869). 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1833 ) is  also  a New 

Englander,  having  been  born  in  Hartford,  Conn.  He  stud- 
ied at  Yale  College.  About  1856  he  removed  to  Newr  York, 
where  he  became  known  as  a frequent  contributor  to  mag- 
azines. He  is  at  present  a stockbroker  in  that  city. 

Mr.  Stedman  has  written  many  poems  of  great  beauty. 
Among  the  most  popular  of  them  are  “ The  Diamond 
Wedding,”  “ How  Old  Brown  took  Harper’s  Ferry,”  and 
“ Alice  of  Monmouth:  an  Idyl  of  the  Great  War.” 

His  books  are  Poems , Lyric  and  Idyllic  (1860),  Rip  Van 
Winhle  and  his  Wonderful  Nap  (1870),  Hawthorne  and  Other 
Poems  (1877),  Lyrics  and  Idyls  (1879).  He  has  also  written 
two  excellent  volumes  of  criticism  : Victorian  Poets  (1875) 
and  Poets  of  America  (1886). 

Thomas  Bailey  Aldrich  (1836 ) was  born  in  Ports- 

mouth, New  Hampshire,  but  entered  the  counting-room  of 
his  uncle,  a merchant  in  New  York,  when  he  was  about 
fifteen  years  old.  He  has  had  a large  experience  in  jour- 
nalism, and  since  1881  has  been  the  editor  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly.  He  is  our  foremost  writer  of  “society  verses.” 
He  has  not  the  rich  imagination  of  Stoddard  nor  the  ver- 
satility of  Stedman,  but  he  surpasses  both  in  delicate  ar- 
tistic skill.  His  jewelled  lines,  exquisitely  pointed,  which 
express  a single  mood  or  a dainty  epigram,  place  him  at 
the  head  of  our  lyrical  writers. 

Among  his  poetical  works  are  Pampinea  (1861),  Cloth  of 
Gold  (1874),  Flower  and  Thorn  (1876),  Friar  Gerome’s  Beau - 
tifv.l  Booh  (1881).  Among  his  prose  works  are  Out  of  His 
Head  (1862),  Story  of  a Bad  Boy  (1870),  Marjorie  Daw  and 


THE  POETS . 


155 


Other  People  (1873),  Prudence  Palfrey  (1874),  The  Queen  of 
Sheba  (1877),  The  Stillwater  Tragedy  (1880),  From  Ponkapog 
to  Pesth  (1883). 

Thomas  Buchanan  Read  (1822-72),  like  Washington 
Allston,  was  both  poet  and  painter.  He  was  born  in 
Chester  county,  Pennsylvania.  He  studied  art  in  sev- 
eral Italian  schools.  As  a painter  he  belongs  with  the 
so-called  “Pre-Raphaelites’*  of  England.  His  poems  are 
patriotic  and  faithful  in  their  descriptions  of  American 
scenery. 

He  published  The  New  Pastoral  (1854),  The  House  by  the 
Sea  (1856),  Sylvia;  or,  The  Lost  Shepherd  (1857),  The  Wag- 
oner of  the  Alleghanies,  a poem  of  Revolutionary  times 
(1862),  The  Good  Samaritan  (1867). 

His  most  popular  poem  was  “ Sheridan’s  Ride  ” (1865). 
Next  in  popularity,  perhaps,  was  “ The  Closing  Scene,”  a 
description  of  rural  life  and  landscape.  “ Drifting  ” is  a 
happy  experiment  in  metrical  arrangement. 

George  Henry  Borer  (1823-1890)  was  a native  of  Phil- 
adelphia and  the  son  of  a wealthy  banker.  He  was  grad- 
uated at  Princeton  College  in  1842,  and  studied  law, 
but  never  engaged  in  practice.  He  was  appointed,  in 
1871,  minister  to  Turkey,  and  was  transferred  in  1875  to 
Russia. 

His  best  writings  are  his  dramas.  They  are  Calaynos , 
a tragedy,  Anne  Boleyn , Leonor  de  Guzman,  and  Francesca 
da  Rimini. 

His  first  volume  of  poems  was  The  Lesson  of  Life  (1847). 
The  patriotic  poems  written  by  him  during  the  war  were 
collected  under  the  title  War  Lyrics  (1864). 

He  also  published  Konigsmarlc  (1869)  and  The  Book  of 
the  Dead  (1882). 

Some  of  his  minor  poems,  like  “A  Ballad  of  Sir  John 
Franklin,”  “ On  Board  the  Cumberland,”  “ Dirge  for  a 
Soldier,”  “ The  Ivory-Carver,”  etc.,  have  been  widely 
popular. 


156 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Charles  Godfrey  Leland  (1824 ) was  bom  in 

Philadelphia,  and  was  graduated  at  Princeton.  He  con- 
tinued his  studies  in  Germany  and  France,  and  after 
his  return  to  America  became  a lawyer.  He  soon  aban- 
doned his  profession  and  gave  himself  to  literature  and 
journalism. 

He  published  The  Poetry  and  Mystery  of  Dreams  in  1855, 
and  in  the  same  year  Meister  Karls  Sketch-Book.  The  latter 
was  full  of  acute  observation,  grotesque  humor,  and  curious 
learning.  His  most  popular  works  were  The  Hans  Breit- 
mann  Ballads.  They  were  a series  of  poems  in  the  dia- 
lect of  the  Pennsylvania  Dutch.  “ Hans  Breitmann  Gif 
a Barty,”  the  first  ballad  of  the  series,  was  immensely 
successful  and  irresistibly  droll. 

He  has  also  written  several  works  on  the  Gypsies,  whose 
life  and  language  he  has  made  a special  study. 

Mr.  Leland  now  lives  in  London. 

5.  Walt  Whitman  (1819 ) is  the  most  singular  and 

most  puzzling  figure  in  American  literature.  His  works 
have  provoked  both  praise  and  blame.  He  has  become 
])02)ular  in  this  country,  and  has  been  extravagantly 
praised  abroad.  He  has  been  hailed  as  the  representa- 
tive American  poet  and  the  true  laureate  of  Democracy. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  has  been  severely  censured  by 
many  able  critics,  and  the  admiration  for  him  has  been 
stigmatized  as  “Whitmania.”  He  is  altogether  original 
both  in  thought  and  style,  and  has  broken  with  all  the 
traditions  of  poetry. 

He  was  born  in  West  Hills,  Long  Island,  May  31,  1819. 
His  meagre  education  was  received  in  the  public  schools 
of  Brooklyn.  He  became  a compositor  and  afterward  a 
carpenter.  During  the  war  he  served  as  a volunteer 
army-nurse.  His  experiences  and  observations  at  that 
time  took  shape  in  a volume  of  poems  entitled  Drum- 
Taps. 

“ Leaves  of  Grass,”  Whitman’s  first  and  most  important 


THE  POETS. 


157 


book,  was  published  in  1855.  He  has  continued  to  add  to 
it  and  to  revise  it  down  to  the  present  year  (1889),  in  which 
he  has  issued  “an  authoritative  and  personal”  edition  of 
his  complete  writings.  He  claims  to  have  expressed  in  this 
remarkable  first  volume  of  poems  the  spirit  of  American 
democracy.  He  calls  it  “ my  definitive  carte  de  visite  to  the 
coming  generations  of  the  New  World.”  Some  parts  of  the 
book  have  been  censured  as  immoral,  but  it  is,  throughout, 
clean  and  wholesome.  The  roughness  and  novelty  of  the 
book  and  of  the  poet  were  indicated  in  the  defiant  rough- 
and-ready  picture  of  “ Walt,”  with  hand  in  pocket,  slouched 
hat,  and  flannel  shirt  open  at  the  throat. 

His  other  works  are  Specimen  Days  and  Collect  (prose) 
and  November  Boughs  (prose).  He  has  lived  humbly  dur- 
ing recent  years  in  Camden,  N.  J.,  where  he  has  been  vis- 
ited by  many  curious  students  from  far  corners  of  the 
world. 

Characteristics. — 1.  Whitman’s  egotism  is  one  of  his 
most  noticeable  traits.  A long  and  remarkable  poem  is 
entitled  “Song  of  Myself”: 

“I  celebrate  myself,  and  sing  myself; 

And  what  I assume  you  shall  assume, 

For  every  atom  belonging  to  me  as  good  belongs  to  you. 

I loaf  and  invite  my  soul ; 

I lean  and  loaf  at  my  ease,  observing  a spear  of  summer  grass.” 


2.  His  democracy  is  a complementary  trait  to  the  first. 
He  is  impressed  with  a sense  of  the  absolute  equality  of 
all  men.  He  is  the  poet  of  the  average  man.  “ Comrade” 
is  the  most  frequent  word  in  his  poems ; “ ensemble  ” (/.  e. 
the  aggregate  of  men,  the  “ cosmos  ”)  the  next  frequent. 
He  takes  his  subjects  from  the  crowded  streets ; he  de- 
scribes the  ferry-boats,  the  street-cars,  the  “ policeman 
with  his  star,”  the  “ mangled  fireman,”  the  “ rough,”  and 
the  “ truck-driver  ” — 


158 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


“The  blab  of  the  pave;  tires  of  carts;  sluff  of  boot-soles;  talk  of  the 
promenaders ; 

The  heavy  omnibus;  the  driver  with  his  interrogating  thumb;  the 
clank  of  the  shod  horses  on  the  granite  floor; 
******** 

The  flap  of  the  curtained  litter,  a sick  man  inside  borne  to  the  hos- 
pital ; 

The  meeting  of  enemies ; the  sudden  oath,  the  blows  and  fall ; 

The  excited  crowd ; the  policeman  with  his  star  quickly  working  his 
passage  to  the  centre  of  the  crowd” 

3.  His  Slang . — Whitman  smears  his  pages  with  the  com- 
monest slang  and  the  most  hideous  newspaper  English. 
He  regards  with  contempt  the  scholastic  speech  and  pol- 
ished diction  of  the  great  poets.  Shakespeare  and  the 
bards  are,  for  him,  the  effete  singers  of  an  outworn  clas- 
sicism and  feudalism.  He  will  have  no  speech  but  the 
speech  of  the  people.  To  him  nothing  is  unclean.  He 
handles  in  the  frankest  manner  the  most  disgusting  sub- 
jects, and  exalts  the  body  where  other  writers  have  ana- 
lyzed the  mind  and  soul. 

His  Verse. — A single  glance  at  one  of  Whitman’s  poems 
reveals  peculiarities  of  construction  that  amaze  the  student 
who  has  thought  of  poetry  as  obedient  to  metrical  rule. 
Classical  scansion  can  make  nothing  ‘of  the  bad  prose 
which  stands  for  poetry  in  the  larger  part  of  Leaves  of 
Grass;  for  example 

“I  knew  a man,  a common  farmer,  the  father  of  five  sons, 

And  in  them  the  fathers  of  sons,  and  in  them  the  fathers  of  sons. 

This  man  was  of  wonderful  vigor,  calmness,  beauty  of  person ; 
******** 

He  was  six  feet  tall,  he  was  over  eighty  years  old,  his  sons  were  mass- 
ive, clean,  bearded,  tan-faced,  handsome. 
******** 

He  was  a frequent  gunner  and  fisher;  he  sailed  his  boat  himself;  he 
had  a fine  one  presented  to  him  by  a ship-joiner ; he  had  fowl- 
ing-pieces presented  to  him  by  men  that  loved  him. 


THE  POETS. 


159 


When  he  went  with  his  five  sons  and  many  grandsons  to  hunt  or  fish, 
you  would  pick  him  out  as  the  most  beautiful  and  vigorous  of 
the  gang.” 

His  rugged  prose  sentences  are  not  poetry,  but  they  do 
contain  a sympathetic  soul,  and  their  pathos  is  at  times 
unmistakable. 


The  Humorists. 

American  humor  is  a distinct  and  noticeable  feature  of 
American  life  and  literature.  It  appeared  very  early  in 
the  history  of  the  New  England  colony,  and  it  underwent 
rapid  development  during  the  Revolution.  Its  chief  cha- 
racteristics are  individuality,  recklessness,  irreverence,  and 
exaggeration.  Our  newspapers  and  comic  weeklies  are 
filled  with  humorous  stories,  too  often  cheap  and  vulgar, 
but  at  times  grotesque  and  irresistible.  Our  most  classical 
writers  have  been  possessed  by  the  merry  spirit,  have  been 
extremely  partial  to  puns,  and  have  often  sacrificed  serious- 
ness to  a joke  which  would  not  be  repressed.  Irving’s  hu- 
mor has  already  been  described ; Emerson  was  slyly  fond 
of  a Yankee  jest;  Dr.  Holmes  effervesces  with  perpetual 
merriment;  and  Lowell  is  the  author  of  some  of  the  wittiest 
lines  of  the  century.  Poe  alone  among  the  higher  names 
in  our  literature  was  really  lacking  in  the  appreciation  of 
humor. 

Chief  among  the  professional  humorists  of  the  country 
are  Artemus  Ward  and  Mark  Twain.  Bret  Harte  is  the 
representative  Western  humorist;  Seba  Smith  (1792-1868), 
who  wrote  under  the  name  of  ‘‘Major  Jack  Downing,”  is  a 
good  illustration  of  Yankee  fun  and  satire. 

Artemus  Ward  was  the  pen-name  of  Charles  Farrar 
Browne  (1834-67).  He  was  a compositor,  and  subse- 
quently newspaper  reporter  and  editor.  His  comic  lec- 
tures were  greatly  successful  in  America  and  in  England. 


160 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


His  books  were  Artemus  Ward , his  Book;  Artemus  Ward , his 
Travels ; and  Artemus  Ward  in  London. 

Mark  Twain  is  the  pen-name  of  Samuel  L.  Clemens 

(1835 ),  who  has  made  countless  thousands  laugh 

and  is  doubtless  the  best  known  humorist  in  the  world. 
He  was  born  in  Missouri,  and,  like  Browne,  learned  the 
printing  trade.  In  1851  he  became  a pilot  on  Mississippi 
River  steamboats,  and  it  was  there  that  he  got  his  nom  de 
plume*  from  hearing  the  leadsman,  sounding  a depth  of 
two  fathoms,  call  out  to  “mark  twain.” 

His  first  successful  publication  was  The  Innocents  Abroad 
(1869).  His  other  books  are  Roughing  It  (1872),  The  Gilded 
Age  (1873),  Adventures  of  Tom  Sawyer  (1876),  A Tramp 
Abroad  (1880),  The  Stolen  White  Elephant  (1882),  The  Prince 
and  the  Pauper  (1882),  Life  on  the  Mississippi  (1883),  and 
Huckleberry  Finn  (1885). 

Twain  sees  the  world  inverted.  All  its  dignities  and 
ancient  splendors  are  fair  game  for  mockery.  He  pokes 
fun  at  the  Sphinx  and  laughs  at  Columbus  and  his  muti- 
nous mariners.  He  drops  a tear  at  the  tomb  of  Adam 
and  makes  merry  with  the  most  solemn  products  of  the 
“ old  masters.” 

Miscellaneous  Writers. 

Donald  G.  Mitchell  (1822 ) has  written  under  the 

pen-name  of  “ Ik  Marvel.”  He  is  the  author  of  Fresh  Glean- 
ings, a book  of  European  travels  (1847),  Reveries  of  a Bach- 
elor (1850),  Dream-Life  (1851),  My  Farm  of  Edgewood  (1863), 
Wet  Days  at  Edgewood  (1865),  Dr.  Johns , a novel  whose  hero 
is  a Connecticut  minister  of  the  olden  time  (1866).;  About 
Old  Story-Tellers  (1877),  and  Bound  Together  (1884).  He 
now  resides  near  New  Haven,  Connecticut,  upon  the  farm 
which  he  has  made  so  famous  in  his  Edgewood  books. 

* Nom  de  plume , or  pseudonym , or  pen-name , signifies  a name  assumed 
by  an  author  as  his  or  her  signature. 


THE  POETS. 


161 


Mr.  Mitchell  is  a delightful  writer  for  boys.  His  English 
is  delicate  and  beautiful.  His  sentiment,  which  was  a little 
cloying  in  his  early  books,  is  charming  in  his  later  ones. 
He  writes  upon  the  practical  and  the  ideal  aspects  of 
rural  life.  His  sympathy  with  children,  his  love  for  good 
books,  and  his  appreciation  of  nature  are  his  chief  cha- 
racteristics. 

James  Parton  (1822-1891)  was  born  in  Canterbury, 
England.  He  was  brought  to  the  United  States  when 
only  five  years  old,  and  was  educated  in  New  York  City. 

He  has  been  an  industrious  writer,  and  has  published  a 
large  number  of  books  upon  various  subjects.  He  con- 
ceives his  subjects  with  great  care,  and  his  style  is  highly 
skilful  and  interesting.  Among  his  books  are  Life  and 
Times  of  Aaron  Burr , Life  of  Andrew  Jackson , General  Butler 
in  New  Orleans , Life  and  Times  of  Benjamin  Franklin , Fa- 
mous Americans  of  Recent  Times , Smoking  and  Drinking , A 
Life  of  Voltaire , Ccvptains  of  Industry. 

Mr.  Parton  in  1856  married  “Fanny  Fern”  (1811-72), 
the  well-known  writer  for  the  New  York  Ledger  and  sister 
of  Nathaniel  P.  Willis. 

Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson  (1823 ) has  been 

active  in  public  life,  and  was  prominent  in  the  anti-slavery 
agitation.  He  was  indicted,  in  company  with  Theodore 
Parker  and  Wendell  Phillips,  for  murder  in  attempting 
to  rescue  a fugitive  slave  from  the  United  States  officers. 
During  the  war  he  was  colonel  of  the  first  regiment  of 
black  troops  that  was  mustered  into  service. 

Mr.  Higginson  is  a vigorous,  virile  writer,  and  handles 
breezy,  wholesome  subjects  in  a pure  and  earnest  way. 
He  is  particularly  happy  in  emphasizing  the  virtues  of 
outdoor  life  and  the  necessity  of  physical  culture  for  the 
American  scholar. 

He  is  the  author  of  Outdoor  Papers  (1863),  Malbone:  an 
Oldport  Romance  (1869),  Army  Life  in  a Black  Regiment 
(1870),  Atlantic  Essays  (1871),  Oldport  Days  (1873),  Young 

li 


162 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Folks ’ History  of  the  United  States  (1875),  Life  of  Margaret 
Fuller  (1884),  etc. 

Charles  Dudley  Warner  (1829 ) was  born  in 

Plainfield,  Massachusetts.  He  was  graduated  at  Hamil- 
ton College  in  1851.  In  1853  he  joined  a surveying  party 
on  the  frontier  of  Missouri,  and  in  a year’s  time  famil- 
iarized himself  with  the  peculiarities  of  frontier-life.  He 
studied  law  in  Philadelphia,  and  practised  his  profession 
in  Chicago,  but  in  1860  removed  to  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
which  is  now  his  home.  He  has  edited  the  Hartford  Cou- 
rant , and  since  1884  has  been  one  of  the  editors  of  Harper’s 
Magazine. 

He  is  the  author  of  Being  a Boy , an  amusing  and  true 
account  of  rural  life  in  New  England  a half  century  ago 
(1867),  My  Summer  in  a Garden  (1870),  Saunterings  (1870), 
Back-Log  Studies  (1872),  Baddeck , and  that  Sort  of  Thing 
(1874),  My  Winter  on  the  Nile  (1876),  In  the  Levant  (1877), 
Washington  Irving  (1881),  Roundabout  Journey  (1883),  Their 
Pilgrimage  (1886),  and  On  Horseback  (1888). 

Warner’s  mellow  and  refined  humor  is  his  chief  charac- 
teristic. 

Literary  Scholars. — Besides  critics  like  Lowell  and 
Stedman,  there  have  been  in  recent  years  an  increasing 
number  of  good  minds  devoting  themselves  to  the  care- 
ful study  and  historical  investigation  of  language  and  lit- 
erature. America  has  taken  a prominent  and  important 
place  in  the  study  of  comparative  philology.  Men  like 

Francis  James  Child  (1825 ) of  Harvard,  editor  of 

the  English  Ballads , and  Moses  Coit  Tyler  (1835 ) 

of  Cornell,  author  of  the  History  of  American  Literature , 
have  produced  works  which  are  enduring  monuments  to 
American  scholarship. 

The  study  of  Shakespeare  has  particularly  engaged  the 
attention  of  our  scholars.  The  names  of  Richard  Grant 
White  and  Horace  Howard  Furness  are  among  the  most 
important  in  Shakespearian  scholarship. 


THE  POETS . 


163 


Richard  Grant  White  was  born  in  New  York  May  22, 
1821,  and  died  there  April  8,  1885.  He  was  educated  in 
his  native  city,  studied  law,  but  abandoned  the  profession 
and  engaged  in  purely  literary  pursuits.  His  philological 
works  were  Words  and  their  Uses  (1870)  and  Every-day  Eng- 
lish (1881).  His  Shakespearian  contributions  were  Shake- 
speare's Scholar  (1854),  a fine  edition  of  The  Works  of  Wil- 
liam Shakespeare , annotated,  in  twelve  volumes  (1857-65), 
Essay  on  the  Authorship  of  the  Three  Parts  of  Henry  the  Sixth 
(1859),  Memoirs  of  William  Shakespeare  (1865),  and,  after 
he  had  lost  his  early  enthusiasm  for  the  subject  of  his 
studies,  The  Riverside  Edition  of  the  Works  of  Shakespeare 
(1883).  His  last  publication  was  Studies  in  Shakespeare , a 
collection  of  essays  contributed  to  the  magazines  (1885). 

Mr.  White  was  a critic  of  great  shrewdness  and  com- 
mon sense.  In  the  explanation  of  obscure  lines  he  dis- 
played considerable  acumen,  though  he  was  not  possessed 
of  the  sweep  of  mind  necessary  to  the  successful  interpre- 
tation of  dramatic  art  and  purpose. 

Horace  Howard  Furness  (1833 ),  the  greatest  liv- 

ing Shakespeare  scholar,  has  been  engaged  since  1870  upon 
a new  variorum  edition.  The  plays  thus  far  published  are 
Romeo  and  Juliet , Macbeth , Hamlet , King  Lear , Othello , The 
Merchant  of  Venice , and  As  You  Like  It.  Great  learning, 
fine  critical  skill,  and  an  exquisite  literary  style  are  com- 
bined and  illustrated  in  this  work,  which  is  one  of  the 
best  of  American  scholastic  achievements. 

The  Journalists. — Connected  with  the  newspapers  and 
magazines  of  our  chief  cities  are  many  men  of  more  than 
ordinary  literary  ability.  Three  New  York  journalists  are 
worthy  of  particular  mention:  they  are  Parke  Godwin, 
William  Winter,  and  Richard  Watson  Gilder. 

Parke  Godwin  (1816 ) married  the  eldest  daughter 

of  William  Cullen  Bryant.  He  was  for  a time  editor  of 
Putnam's  Monthly , has  contributed  to  many  magazines,  and 
is  now  the  editor  of  the  New  York  Nation , the  best  of  Amer- 


164 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ican  weekly  journals.  He  has  written  Constructive  Democ- 
racy; Vala:  a Mythological  Tale;  Out  of  the  Past , a volume 
of  serious  essays ; and  has  edited  an  edition  of  Bryant’s 
works  with  a Life. 

William  Winter  (1836 ) has  been  since  1865  dra- 

matic critic  for  the  New  York  Tribune.  He  has  written 
several  poems  of  unmistakable  beauty,  and  some  prose 
books  of  pure  and  noble  sentiment.  Among  his  works 
are  The  Convent , and  Other  Poems  (1854),  The  Queen's 
Domain , and  Other  Poems  (1858),  Life  of  Edwin  Booth 
(1871),  Thistledown:  a Book  of  Lyrics  (1878),  The  Trip  to 
England  (1879),  The  Jeffersons  (1881),  Henry  Irving  (1885), 
The  Stage-Life  of  Mary  Anderson  (1886),  English  Rambles 
(1884),  and  Shakespeare's  England  (1886). 

Richard  Watson  Gilder  (1844 ) has  been  since 

1881  editor-in-chief  of  The  Century.  He  has  published 

four  volumes  of  neat  verse : The  New  Day , The  Poet  and 
his  Master , Lyrics , and  The  Celestial  Passion. 

Mr.  Gilder  is  a brother  of  William  Henry  Gilder,  the 
Arctic  explorer. 

John  Burroughs  (1837 ) belongs  with  the  out-of- 

door  writers,  and  is  the  most  important  representative  of 
that  group  since  Thoreau.  He  bears  some  resemblance  to 
the  late  Richard  Jefferies  of  England,  the  author  of  The 
Gamekeeper  at  Home , but  is  not  so  metaphysical  as  he. 

Mr.  Burroughs  has  written  Walt  Whitman  as  Poet  and 
Person  (1867),  Wake  Robin  (1871),  Winter  Sunshine  (1875), 
Birds  and  Poets  (1877),  Locusts  and  Wild  Honey  (1879),  Pe- 
pacton  (1881),  Fresh  Fields  (1884),  and  Signs  and  Seasons 
(1886). 

His  knowledge  of  nature  is  intimate  and  peculiar,  and 
his  style  is  crisp,  clear,  and  invigorating. 


READINGS. 


R E ADINGS. 


COTTON  MATHER. 

Literary  Style. 

[From  “ Manuductio  ad  Ministerium  ” — i.  e.  “ Directions  for  a Candi- 
date for  the  Ministry  .”] 

There  is  a way  of  writing  wherein  the  author  endeavors 
that  the  reader  may  have  something  to  the  purpose  in  every 
paragraph.  There  is  not  only  a vigor  sensible  in  every  sen- 
tence, but  the  paragraph  is  embellished  with  profitable  ref- 
erences, even  to  something  beyond  what  is  directly  spoken. 
Formal  and  painful  quotations  are  not  studied  ; yet  all  that 
could  be  learned  from  them  is  insinuated.  The  writer  pre- 
tends not  unto  reading,  yet  he  could  not  have  writ  as  he 
does  if  he  had  not  read  very  much  in  his  time ; and  his 
composures  are  not  only  a cloth  of  gold,  but  also  stuck 
with  as  many  jewels  as  the  gown  of  a Russian  ambassador. 
This  way  of  writing  has  been  decried  by  many,  and  is  at 
this  day  more  than  ever  so,  for  the  same  reason  that  in  the 
old  story  the  grapes  were  decried,  “ that  they  were  not  ripe.” 
A lazy,  ignorant,  conceited  set  of  authors  would  persuade 
the  whole  tribe  to  lay  aside  that  way  of  writing,  for  the 
same  reason  that  one  would  have  persuaded  his  brethren 
to  part  with  the  incumbrance  of  their  bushy  tails.  But, 

167 


168 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


however  fashion  and  humor*  may  prevail,  they  must  not 
think  that  the  club  at  their  coffee-house  is  all  the  world. 
But  there  will  always  be  those  who  will  in  this  case  be 
governed  by  indisputable  reason,  and  who  will  think  that 
the  real  excellency  of  a book  will  never  lie  in  saying  of 
little ; that  the  less  one  has  for  his  money  in  a book,  ’tis 
really  the  more  valuable  for  it ; and  that  the  less  one  is 
instructed  in  a book,  and  the  more  of  superfluous  margin 
and  superficial  harangue,  and  the  less  of  substantial  mat- 
ter, one  has  in  it,  the  more  ’tis  to  be  accounted  of.  And  if 
a more  massy  way  of  writing  be  never  so  much  disgusted 
at  this  day,  a better  gustf  will  come  on. 

Note. — This  passage  should  be  compared  with  the  following  selec- 
tion from  Benjamin  Franklin.  The  former  illustrates  and  defends  the 
literary  manner  of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  latter  that  of  the  eight- 
eenth century.  The  first  is  the  plea  of  the  most  learned  of  colonial 
Americans ; the  other  is  the  story  of  the  origin  of  the  style  of  the  first 
of  Revolutionary  writers. 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 

Passages  from  his  Autobiography. 

his  cultivation  of  style. 

From  a child  I was  fond  of  reading,  and  all  the  little 
money  that  came  into  my  hands  was  ever  laid  out  in 
books.  Pleased  with  the  Pilgrim’s  Progress , my  first  col- 
lection was  of  John  Bunyan’s  works,  in  separate  little 
volumes.  I afterward  sold  them  to  enable  me  to  buy 
R.  Burton’s  Historical  Collections;  they  were  small  chap- 
men’s books,  and  cheap,  forty  or  fifty  in  all.  My  father’s 
little  library  consisted  chiefly  of  books  in  polemic  divinity, 
most  of  which  I read,  and  have  since  often  regretted  that, 


* Caprice, 


f Taste, 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN. 


169 


at  a time  when  I had  such  a thirst  for  knowledge,  more 
proper  books  had  not  fallen  in  my  way,  since  it  was  now 
resolved  I should  not  be  a clergyman.  Plutarch’s  Lives 
there  was,  in  which  I read  abundantly,  and  I still  think 
that  time  spent  to  great  advantage.  There  was  also  a book 
of  De  Foe’s,  called  an  Essay  on  Projects , and  another  of  Dr. 
Mather’s,  called  Essays  to  Do  Good , which  perhaps  gave  me 
a turn  of  thinking  that  had  an  influence  on  some  of  the 
principal  future  events  of  my  life. 

This  bookish  inclination  at  length  determined  my  father 
to  make  me  a printer,  though  he  had  already  one  son 
(James)  of  that  profession.  In  1717  my  brother  James 
returned  from  England  with  a press  and  letters,  to  set  up 
his  business  in  Boston.  I liked  it  much  better  than  that 
of  my  father,  but  still  had  a hankering  for  the  sea.  To 
prevent  the  apprehended  effect  of  such  an  inclination,  my 
father  was  impatient  to  have  me  bound  to  my  brother.  I 
stood  out  some  time,  but  at  last  was  persuaded,  and  signed 
the  indentures  when  I was  yet  but  twelve  years  old.  I 
was  to  serve  as  an  apprentice  till  I was  twenty-one  years 
of  age,  only  I was  to  be  allowed  journeyman’s  wages  dur- 
ing the  last  year.  In  a little  time  I made  great  proficiency 
in  the  business,  and  became  a useful  hand  to  my  brother. 
I now  had  access  to  better  books.  An  acquaintance  with 
the  apprentices  of  booksellers  enabled  me  sometimes  to 
borrow  a small  one,  which  I was  careful  to  return  soon 
and  clean.  Often  I sat  up  in  my  room  reading  the  great- 
est part  of  the  night  when  the  book  was  borrowed  in  the 
evening  and  to  be  returned  early  in  the  morning,  lest  it 
should  be  missed  or  wanted. 

And  after  some  time  an  ingenious  tradesman,  Mr.  Mat- 
thew Adams,  who  had  a pretty  collection  of  books,  and 
who  frequented  our  printing-house,  took  notice  of  me, 
invited  me  to  his  library,  and  very  kindly  lent  me  such 
books  as  I chose  to  read.  I now  took  a fancy  to  poetry, 
and  made  some  little  pieces;  my  brother,  thinking  it  might 


170 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


turn  to  account,  encouraged  me,  and  put  me  on  composing 
occasional  ballads.  One  was  called  The  Lighthouse  Trag- 
edy, and  contained  an  account  of  the  drowning  of  Captain 
Worthilake,  with  his  two  daughters:  the  other  was  a sail- 
or’s song  on  the  taking  of  Teach  (or  Blackbeard)  the  pirate. 
They  were  wretched  stuff,  in  the  Grub-Street-ballad  style ; 
and  when  they  were  printed  he  sent  me  about  the  town 
to  sell  them.  The  first  sold  wonderfully,  the  event  being- 
recent,  having  made  a great  noise.  This  flattered  my  van- 
ity ; but  my  father  discouraged  me  by  ridiculing  my  per- 
formances and  telling  me  verse-makers  were  generally 
beggars.  So  I escaped  being  a poet,  most  probably  a 
very  bad  one ; but  as  prose-writing  has  been  of  great  use 
to  me  in  the  course  of  my  life,  and  was  a principal  means 
of  my  advancement,  I shall  tell  you  how,  in  such  a situa- 
tion, I acquired  what  little  ability  I have  in  that  way.  . . . 

About  this  time  I met  with  an  odd  volume  of  the  Specta- 
tor. It  was  the  third.  I had  never  before  seen  any  of 
them.  I bought  it,  read  it  over  and  over,  and  was  much 
delighted  with  it.  I thought  the  writing  excellent,  and 
wished,  if  possible,  to  imitate  it.  With  this  view  I took 
some  of  the  papers,  and,  making  short  hints  of  the  senti- 
ment in  each  sentence,  laid  them  by  a few  days,  and  then, 
without  looking  at  the  book,  tried  to  complete  the  papers 
again,  by  expressing  each  hinted  sentiment  at  length,  and 
as  fully  as  it  had  been  expressed  before,  in  any  suitable 
words  that  should  come  to  hand.  Then  I compared  my 
Spectator  with  the  original,  discovered  some  of  my  faults, 
and  corrected  them.  But  I found  I wanted  a stock  of 
words,  or  a readiness  in  recollecting  and  using  them,  which 
I thought  I should  have  acquired  before  that  time  if  I had 
gone  on  making  verses ; since  the  continual  occasion  for 
words  of  the  same  import,  but  of  different  length,  to  suit 
the  measure,  or  of  different  sound  for  the  rhyme,  would 
have  laid  me  under  a constant  necessity  of  searching  for 
variety,  and  also  have  tended  to  fix  that  variety  in  my 


BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN, 


171 


mind  and  make  me  master  of  it.  Therefore  I took  some 
of  the  tales  and  turned  them  into  verse,  and,  after  a time, 
when  I had  pretty  well  forgotten  the  prose,  turned  them 
back  again.  I also  sometimes  jumbled  my  collections  of 
hints  into  confusion,  and  after  some  weeks  endeavored  to 
reduce  them  into  the  best  order  before  I began  to  form  the 
full  sentences  and  complete  the  paper.  This  was  to  teach 
me  method  in  the  arrangement  of  thoughts.  By  compar- 
ing my  work  afterward  with  the  original,  I discovered  many 
faults  and  amended  them ; but  I sometimes  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  fancying  that  in  certain  particulars  of  small  import 
I had  been  lucky  enough  to  improve  the  method  or  the 
language ; and  this  encouraged  me  to  think  I might  pos- 
sibly in  time  come  to  be  a tolerable  English  writer,  of 
which  I was  extremely  ambitious.  My  time  for  these 
exercises  and  for  reading  was  at  night,  after  work  or 
before  it  began  in  the  morning,  or  on  Sundays,  when  I 
contrived  to  be  in  the  printing-house  alone,  evading  as 
much  as  I could  the  common  attendance  on  public  wor- 
ship which  my  father  used  to  exact  of  me  when  I was 
under  his  care,  and  which  indeed  I still  thought  a duty, 
though  I could  not,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  afford  time  to 
practise  it.  . . . 

HIS  FIRST  ENTRY  INTO  PHILADELPHIA. 

I have  been  the  more  particular  in  this  description  of 
my  journey,  and  shall  be  so  of  my  first  entry  into  that 
city,  that  you  may  in  your  mind  compare  such  unlikely 
beginnings  with  the  figure  I have  since  made  there.  I 
was  in  my  working  dress,  my  best  clothes  being  to  come 
round  by  sea.  I was  dirty  from  my  journey ; my  pockets 
were  stuffed  out  with  shirts  and  stockings,  and  I knew  no 
soul,  nor  where  to  look  for  lodging.  I was  fatigued  with 
travelling,  rowing,  and  want  of  rest ; I was  very  hungry, 
and  my  whole  stock  of  cash  consisted  of  a Dutch  dollar 
and  about  a shilling  in  copper.  The  latter  I gave  the 


172 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


people  of  the  boat  for  my  passage,  who  at  first  refused  it 
on  account  of  my  rowing ; but  I insisted  on  their  taking 
it.  A man  being  sometimes  more  generous  when  he  has 
but  a little  money  than  when  he  has  plenty,  perhaps 
through  fear  of  being  thought  to  have  but  little. 

Then  I walked  up  the  street,  gazing  about,  till,  near  the 
market-house,  I met  a boy  with  bread.  I had  made  many 
a meal  on  bread,  and,  inquiring  where  he  got  it,  I went 
immediately  to  the  baker’s  he  directed  me  to,  in  Second 
Street,  and  asked  for  biscuit,  intending  such  as  we  had  in 
Boston;  but  they,  it  seems,  were  not  made  in  Philadelphia. 
Then  I asked  for  a three-penny  loaf,  and  was  told  they  had 
none  such.  So,  not  considering  or  knowing  the  difference 
of  money,  and  the  greater  cheapness  nor  the  names  of  his 
bread,  I bade  him  give  me  three-penny  worth  of  any  sort. 
He  gave  me,  accordingly,  three  great  puffy  rolls.  I was 
surprised  at  the  quantity,  but  took  it,  and,  having  no  room 
in  my  pockets,  walked  off  with  a roll  under  each  arm,  and 
eating  the  other.  Thus  I went  up  Market  Street  as  far  as 
Fourth  Street,  passing  by  the  door  of  Mr.  Read,  my  future 
wife’s  father ; when  she,  standing  at  the  door,  saw  me,  and 
thought  I made,  as  I certainly  did,  a most  awkward,  ridic- 
ulous appearance.  Then  I turned  and  went  down  Chestnut 
Street,  and  part  of  Walnut  Street,  eating  my  roll  all  the 
way,  and,  coming  round,  found  myself  again  at  Market 
Street  wharf,  near  the  boat  I came  in,  to  which  I went  for 
a draught  of  the  river  water ; and,  being  filled  with  one  of 
my  rolls,  gave  the  other  two  to  a woman  and  her  child  that 
came  down  the  river  in  the  boat  with  us,  and  were  waiting 
to  go  farther. 

Thus  refreshed,  I walked  again  up  the  street,  which  by 
this  time  had  many  clean-dressed  people  in  it,  who  were 
all  walking  the  same  way.  I joined  them,  and  thereby 
was  led  into  the  great  meeting-house  of  the  Quakers,  near 
the  market.  I sat  down  among  them,  and,  after  looking- 
round  a while  and  hearing  nothing  said,  being  very  drowsy 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


173 


through  labor  and  want  of  rest  the  preceding  night,  I fell 
fast  asleep,  and  continued  so  till  the  meeting  broke  up, 
when  one  was  kind  enough  to  rouse  me.  This  was,  there- 
fore, the  first  house  I was  in,  or  slept  in,  in  Philadel- 
phia. . . . 

TO  WILLIAM  STRAHAN,  AFTER  THE  WAR  HAD 

BEGUN. 

Mr.  Strahan, 

You  are  a member  of  Parliament,  and  one  of  that  major- 
ity which  has  doomed  my  country  to  destruction.  You 
have  begun  to  burn  our  towns  and  murder  our  people. 
Look  upon  your  hands ; they  are  stained  with  the  blood 
of  your  relations!  You  and  I were  long  friends;  you  are 
now  my  enemy,  and  I am 

Yours, 

B.  Franklin. 

Philadelphia,  5 July,  1775. 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 

An  Anecdote  of  Franklin. 

[From  Biographical  Sketches  of  Distinguished  Men.'] 

When  the  Declaration  of  Independence  was  under  the 
consideration  of  Congress  there  were  two  or  three  unlucky 
expressions  in  it  which  gave  offence  to  some  members. 
The  words  “ Scotch  and  other  foreign  auxiliaries  ” excited 
the  ire  of  a gentleman  or  two  of  that  country.  Several 
strictures  on  the  conduct  of  the  British  king  in  negotiating 
our  repeated  repeals  of  the  law  which  permitted  the  im- 
portation of  slaves  were  disapproved  by  some  Southern 
gentlemen,  whose  reflections  were  not  yet  matured  to  the 
full  abhorrence  of  that  traffic.  Although  the  offensive 


174 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


expressions  were  immediately  yielded,  these  gentlemen 
continued  their  depredations  on  other  parts  of  the  instru- 
ment. I was  sitting  by  Dr.  Franklin,  who  perceived  that 
I was  not  insensible  to  these  mutilations.  “ I have  made 
it  a rule,”  said  he,  “ whenever  in  my  power,  to  avoid  be- 
coming the  draughtsman  of  papers  to  be  reviewed  by  a 
public  body.  I took  my  lesson  from  an  incident  which  I 
will  relate  to  you.  When  I was  a journeyman  printer  one 
of  my  companions,  an  apprentice  hatter,  having  served  out 
his  time,  was  about  to  open  shop  for  himself.  His  first 
concern  was  to  have  a handsome  signboard,  with  a proper 
inscription.  He  composed  it  in  these  words,  £ John  Thomp- 
son, Hatter , makes  and  sells  hats  for  ready  money,’  with  the 
figure  of  a hat  subjoined ; but  he  thought  he  would  sub- 
mit it  to  his  friends  for  their  amendments.  The  first  he 
showed  it  to  thought  the  word  1 Hatter  ’ tautologous,  be- 
cause followed  by  the  words  1 makes  hats,’ which  showed 
he  was  a hatter.  It  was  struck  out.  The  next  observed 
that  the  word  ‘ makes  ’ might  as  well  be  omitted,  because 
his  customers  would  not  care  who  made  the  hats.  If  good 
and  to  their  mind,  they  would  buy,  by  whomsoever  made. 
He  struck  it  out.  A third  said  he  thought  the  words  ‘for 
ready  money  ’ were  useless,  as  it  was  not  the  custom  of  the 
place  to  sell  on  credit ; every  one  who  purchased  expected 
to  pay.  They  were  parted  with,  and  the  inscription  now 
stood,  ‘ John  Thompson  sells  hats.’  ‘Sells  hats1?  says  his 
next  friend.  ‘Why,  nobody  will  expect  you  to  give  them 
away  ; what  then  is  the  use  of  that  word  ?’  It  was  stricken 
out,  and  ‘ hats  ’ followed  it,  the  rather  as  there  was  one 
painted  on  the  board.  So  the  inscription  was  reduced 
ultimately  to  ‘John  Thompson,’  with  the  figure  of  a hat 
subjoined.” 


THOMAS  JEFFERSON. 


175 


The  Mountains  of  Virginia. 

[From  Notes  on  Virginia .] 

The  passage  of  the  Potomac  through  the  Blue  Ridge  is, 
perhaps,  one  of  the  most  stupendous  scenes  in  Nature. 
You  stand  on  a very  high  point  of  land.  On  your  right 
comes  up  the  Shenandoah,  having  ranged  along  the  foot 
of  the  mountain  an  hundred  miles  to  seek  a vent.  On 
your  left  approaches  the  Potomac,  in  quest  of  a passage 
also.  In  the  moment  of.  their  junction  they  rush  together 
against  the  mountain,  rend  it  asunder,  and  pass  off  to  the 
sea.  The  first  glance  of  this  scene  hurries  our  senses  into 
the  opinion  that  this  earth  has  been  created  in  time,  that 
the  mountains  were  formed  first,  that  the  rivers  began  to 
flow  afterward,  that  in  'this  place,  particularly,  they  have 
been  dammed  up  by  the  Blue  Ridge  of  mountains,  and 
have  formed  an  ocean  which  filled  the  whole  valley — that, 
continuing  to  rise,  they  have  at  length  broken  over  at  this 
spot,  and  have  torn  the  mountain  down  from  its  summit 
to  its  base. 

The  piles  of  rock  on  each  hand,  but  particularly  on  the 
Shenandoah,  the  evident  marks  of  their  disrupture  and 
avulsion  from  their  beds  by  the  most  powerful  agents  of 
Nature,  corroborate  the  impression.  But  the  distant  finish- 
ing which  Nature  has  given  to  the  picture  is  of  a very  dif- 
ferent character.  It  is  a true  contrast  to  the  foreground. 
It  is  as  placid  and  delightful  as  that  is  wild  and  tremend- 
ous. For  the  mountain  being  cloven  asunder,  she  presents 
to  your  eye,  through  the  cleft,  a small  catch  of  smooth  blue 
horizon  at  an  infinite  distance  in  the  plain  country,  invit- 
ing you,  as  it  were,  from  the  riot  and  tumult  roaring  around 
to  pass  through  the  breach  and  participate  of  the  calm  be- 
low. Here  the  eye  ultimately  composes  itself;  and  that 
way,  too,  the  road  happens  actually  to  lead.  You  cross 
the  Potomac  above  the  junction,  pass  along  its  side  through 


176  A MERIC  AN  LITER  A TUBE. 

the  base  of  the  mountain  for  three  miles,  its  terrible  preci- 
pices hanging  in  fragments  over  you,  and  within  about 
twenty  miles  reach  Fredericktown  and  the  fine  country 
round  that.  This  scene  is  worth  a voyage  across  the  At- 
lantic. Yet  here,  as  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Natural 
Bridge,  are  people  who  have  passed  their  lives  within  half 
a dozen  miles,  and  have  never  been  to  survey  these  monu- 
ments of  a war  between  rivers  and  mountains  which  must 
have  shaken  the  earth  itself  to  its  centre. 


WILLIAM  WIRT. 

The  Blind  Preacher* 

[From  The  Letters  of  the  British  Spy.] 

It  was  one  Sunday,  as  I travelled  through  the  county 
of  Orange,  that  my  eye  was  caught  by  a cluster  of  horses 
tied  near  a ruinous  old  wooden  house  in  the  forest,  not  far 
from  the  roadside.  Having  frequently  seen  such  objects 
before  in  travelling  through  these  States,  I had  no  diffi- 
culty in  understanding  that  this  was  a place  of  religious 
worship. 

Devotion  alone  should  have  stopped  me  to  join  in  the 
duties  of  the  congregation ; but  I must  confess  that  curios- 
ity to  hear  the  preacher  of  such  a wilderness  was  not  the 
least  of  my  motives.  On  entering  I was  struck  with  his 
preternatural  appearance.  He  was  a tall  and  very  spare 
old  man ; his  head,  which  was  covered  with  a white  linen 
cap,  his  shrivelled  hands,  and  his  voice,  were  all  shaking 
under  the  influence  of  a palsy,  and  a few  moments  ascer- 
tained to  me  that  he  was  perfectly  blind. 

* James  Waddel,  “the  blind  preacher,”  was  born  in  Ireland  in  1739, 
and  died  in  Louisa  county,  Va.,  17th  Sept.,  1805.  He  was  the  teacher 
of  James  Madison.  Wirt’s  account  of  him  was  written  in  1803. 


WILLIAM  WIRT. 


177 


The  first  emotions  which  touched  my  breast  were  those 
of  mingled  pity  and  veneration.  But,  ah  ! . . . how  soon 
were  all  my  feelings  changed ! The  lips  of  Plato  were 
never  more  worthy  of  a prognostic  swarm  of  bees  than 
were  the  lips  of  this  holy  man.  It  was  a day  of  the 
administration  of  the  sacrament,  and  his  subject,  of 
course,  was  the  passion  of  our  Saviour.  I had  heard 
the  subject  handled  a thousand  times : 1 had  thought  it 
exhausted  long  ago.  Little  did  I suppose  that  in  the  wild 
woods  of  America  I was  to  meet  with  a man  whose  elo- 
quence would  give  to  this  topic  a new  and  more  sublime 
pathos  than  1 had  ever  before  witnessed. 

As  he  descended  from  the  pulpit  to  distribute  the  mys- 
tic symbols,  there  was  a peculiar,  a more  than  human, 
solemnity  in  his  air  and  manner  which  made  my  blood 
run  cold  and  my  whole  frame  shiver. 

He  then  drew  a picture  of  the  sufferings  of  our  Saviour 
— his  trial  before  Pilate,  his  ascent  up  Calvary,  his  cruci- 
fixion, and  his  death.  I knew  the  whole  history,  but  never 
until  then  had  I heard  the  circumstances  so  selected,  so 
arranged,  so  colored.  It  was  all  new,  and  I seemed  to 
have  heard  it  for  the  first  time  in  my  life.  His  enuncia- 
tion was  so  deliberate  that  his  voice  trembled  on  every 
syllable,  and  every  heart  in  the  assembly  trembled  in  uni- 
son. His  peculiar  phrases  had  that  force  of  description  that 
the  original  scene  appeared  to  be,  at  that  moment,  acting 
before  our  eyes.  We  saw  the  very  faces  of  the  Jews — the 
staring,  frightful  distortions  of  malice  and  rage.  We  saw  the 
buffet : my  soul  kindled  with  a flame  of  indignation  and 
my  hands  were  involuntarily  and  convulsively  clenched. 

But  when  he  came  to  touch  on  the  patience,  the  for- 
giving meekness,  of  our  Saviour ; when  he  drew,  to  the  life, 
his  blessed  eyes  streaming  in  tears  to  heaven,  his  voice 
breathing  to  God  a soft  and  gentle  prayer  of  pardon  on 
his  enemies,  “ Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do,”  the  voice  of  the  preacher,  which  had  all 
12 


178 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


along  faltered,  grew  fainter  and  fainter,  until,  his  utterance 
being  entirely  obstructed  by  the  force  of  his  feelings,  he 
raised  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes  and  burst  into  a loud 
and  irrepressible  flood  of  grief.  The  effect  is  inconceivable. 
The  whole  house  resounded  with  the  mingled  groans  and 
sobs  and  shrieks  of  the  congregation. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  tumult  had  subsided  so 
far  as  to  permit  him  to  proceed.  Indeed,  judging  by  the 
usual,  but  fallacious,  standard  of  my  own  weakness,  I 
began  to  be  very  uneasy  for  the  situation  of  the  preacher. 
For  I could  not  conceive  how  he  would  be  able  to  let  his 
audience  down  from  the  height  to  which  he  had  wound 
them,  without  impairing  the  solemnity  and  dignity  of  his 
subject  or  perhaps  shocking  them  by  the  abruptness  of  the 
fall.  But  no ; the  descent  was  as  beautiful  and  sublime  as 
the  elevation  had  been  rapid  and  enthusiastic. 

The  first  sentence  with  which  he  broke  the  awful  silence 
was  a quotation  from  Rousseau  : “ Socrates  died  like  a phil- 
osopher, but  Jesus  Christ  like  a God.” 

I despair  of  giving  you  any  idea  of  the  effect  produced 
by  this  short  sentence,  unless  you  could  perfectly  conceive 
the  wdiole  manner  of  the  man  as  well  as  the  peculiar  crisis 
in  the  discourse.  Never  before  did  I completely  under- 
stand what  Demosthenes  meant  by  laying  such  stress  on 
delivery.  You  are  to  bring  before  you  the  venerable  figure 
of  the  preacher ; his  blindness,  constantly  recalling  to  your 
recollection  old  Homer,  Ossian,  and  Milton,  and  associating 
with  his  performance  the  melancholy  grandeur  of  their 
geniuses ; you  are  to  imagine  that  you  hear  his  slow,  sol- 
emn, well-accented  enunciation,  and  his  voice  of  affecting, 
trembling  melody;  you  are  to  remember  the  pitch  of  pas- 
sion and  enthusiasm  to  which  the  congregation  were  raised ; 
and  then  the  few  minutes  of  portentous,  death-like  silence 
which  reigned  throughout  the  house ; the  preacher,  remov- 
ing his  white  handkerchief  from  his  aged  face,  even  yet 
wret  from  the  recent  torrent  of  his  tears,  and  slowly  stretch- 


JOSEPH  STOP  Y. 


179 


ing  forth  the  palsied  hand  which  holds  it,  begins  the  sen- 
tence, “Socrates  died  like  a philosopher” — then  pausing, 
raising  his  other  hand,  pressing  them  both,  clasped  to- 
gether, with  warmth  and  energy  to  his  breast,  lifting  his 
“ sightless  balls  ” to  heaven,  and  pouring  his  whole  soul 
into  his  tremulous  voice,  “ but  Jesus  Christ — like  a God!” 
If  he  had  been  indeed  and  in  truth  an  angel  of  light,  the 
effect  could  scarcely  have  been  more  divine. 

Whatever  I had  been  able  to  conceive  of  the  sublimity 
of  Massillon  or  the  force  of  Bourdaloue  had  fallen  far  short 
of  the  power  which  I felt  from  the  delivery  of  this  simple 
sentence.  The  blood  which  just  before  had  rushed  in  a 
hurricane  upon  my  brain,  and,  in  the  violence  and  agony 
of  my  feelings,  had  held  my  whole  system  in  suspense,  now 
ran  back  into  my  heart  with  a sensation  which  I cannot 
describe — a kind  of  shuddering,  delicious  horror.  The 
paroxysms  of  blended  pity  and  indignation  to  which  I 
had  been  transported  subsided  into  the  deepest  self-abase- 
ment, humility,  and  adoration.  I had  just  been  lacerated 
and  dissolved  by  sympathy  for  our  Saviour  as  a fellow- 
creature,  but  now,  with  fear  and  trembling,  I adored  him 
as — “ a God.” 


JOSEPH  STORY. 

The  Lawyer. 

[From  his  Inaugural  Discourse  at  Harvard,  1829.] 

The  perfect  lawyer,  like  the  perfect  orator,  must  accom- 
plish himself  for  his  duties  by  familiarity  with  every  study. 
It  may  be  truly  said  that  to  him  nothing  that  concerns 
human  nature  or  human  art  is  indifferent  or  useless.  He 
should  search  the  human  heart,  and  explore  to  their  sources 
the  passions  and  appetites  and  feelings  of  mankind.  He 


180 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


should  watch  the  motions  of  the  dark  and  malignant  pas- 
sions as  they  silently  approach  the  chambers  of  the  soul  in 
its  first  slumbers.  He  should  catch  the  first  warm  rays  of 
sympathy  and  benevolence  as  they  play  around  the  cha- 
racter and  are  reflected  back  from  its  varying  lines.  He 
should  learn  to  detect  the  cunning  arts  of  the  hypocrite, 
who  pours  into  the  credulous  and  unwary  ear  his  leper- 
ous  distilment. 

He  should  for  this  purpose  make  the  master-spirits  of 
all  ages  pay  contribution  to  his  labors.  He  should  walk 
abroad  through  Nature,  and  elevate  his  thoughts  and  warm 
his  virtues  by  a contemplation  of  her  beauty  and  magnif- 
icence and  harmony.  He  should  examine  well  the  precepts 
of  religion  as  the  only  solid  basis  of  civil  society,  and  gather 
from  them  not  only  his  duty,  but  his  hopes — not  merely  his 
consolations,  but  his  discipline  and  his  glory.  He  should 
unlock  all  the  treasures  of  history  for  illustration  and 
instruction  and  admonition.  He  will  thus  see  man  as 
he  has  been,  and  thereby  best  know  what  he  is.  He 
will  thus  be  taught  to  distrust  theory  and  cling  to  practi- 
cal good — to  rely  more  upon  experience  than  reasoning, 
more  upon  institutions  than  lawrs,  more  upon  checks  to 
vice  than  upon  motives  to  virtue.  He  will  become  more 
indulgent  to  human  errors ; more  scrupulous  in  means  as 
well  as  ends;  more  wise,  more  candid,  more  forgiving, 
more  disinterested.  If  the  melancholy  infirmities  of  his 
race  shall  make  him  trust  men  less,  he  may  yet  learn  to 
love  men  more. 

Nor  should  he  stop  here.  He  must  drink  in  the  lessons 
and  spirit  of  philosophy.  I do  not  mean  the  philosophy 
described  by  Milton  as 

“A  perpetual  feast  of  nectared  sweets, 

Where  no  crude  surfeit  reigns,1 ” 

but  that  philosophy  which  is  conversant  with  men’s  busi- 
ness and  interests,  with  the  policy  and  the  welfare  of  na- 


PHILIP  FREE E A U. 


181 


tions ; that  philosophy  which  dwells  not  in  vain  imagina- 
tions and  Platonic  dreams,  but  which  stoops  to  life  and 
enlarges  the  boundaries  of  human  happiness  ; that  philos- 
ophy which  sits  by  us  in  the  closet,  cheers  us  by  the  fire- 
side, walks  with  us  in  the  fields  and  highways,  kneels 
with  us  at  the  altars,  and  lights  up  the  enduring  flame  of 
patriotism. 


PHILIP  FRENEAU. 

The  Indian  Burying-Ground. 

In  spite  of  all  the  learned  have  said, 

I still  my  old  opinion  keep : 

The  posture  that  we  give  the  dead 
Points  out  the  soul’s  eternal  sleep. 

Not  so  the  ancients  of  these  lands : 

The  Indian,  when  from  life  released, 

Again  is  seated  with  his  friends, 

And  shares  again  the  joyous  feast. 

His  imaged  birds,  and  painted  bowl, 

And  venison  for  a journey  drest, 

Bespeak  the  nature  of  the  soul, 

Activity  that  wants  no  rest. 

His  bow  for  action  ready  bent, 

And  arrows  with  a head  of  stone, 

Can  only  mean  that  life  is  spent, 

And  not  the  old  ideas  gone. 

Thou,  stranger,  that  shalt  come  this  way, 
No  fraud  upon  the  dead  commit ; 


182 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Observe  the  swelling  turf,  and  say, 

They  do  not  lie , but  here  they  sit. 

Here  still  a lofty  rock  remains, 

On  which  the  curious  eye  may  trace 

(Now  wasted  half  by  wearing  rains) 

The  fancies  of  a ruder  race. 

Here  still  an  aged  elm  aspires, 

Beneath  whose  far-projecting  shade 

(And  which  the  shepherd  still  admires) 
The  children  of  the  forest  played. 

There  oft  a restless  Indian  queen 

(Pale  Shebah  with  her  braided  hair), 

And  many  a barbarous  form  is  seen 
To  chide  the  man  that  lingers  there. 

By  midnight  moons,  o’er  moistening  dews, 
In  vestments  for  the  chase  arrayed, 

The  hunter  still  the  deer  pursues — 

The  hunter  and  the  deer  a shade. 

And  long  shall  timorous  Fancy  see 
The  painted  chief  and  pointed  spear; 

And  reason’s  self  shall  bow  the  knee 
To  shadows  and  delusions  here. 

The  Wild  Honeysuckle. 

Fair  flower  that  dost  so  comely  grow 
Hid  in  this  silent,  dull  retreat, 

Untouched  thy  honeyed  blossoms  blow, 
Unseen  thy  little  branches  greet ; 

No  roving  foot  shall  crush  thee  here, 
No  busy  hand  provoke  a tear. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


183 


By  Nature’s  self  in  white  arrayed, 

She  bade  thee  shun  the  vulgar  eye, 

And  planted  here  the  guardian  shade 
And  sent  soft  waters  murmuring  by ; 

Thus  quietly  thy  summer  goes, 

Thy  days  declining  to  repose. 

Smit  with  those  charms  that  must  decay, 

I grieve  to  see  your  future  doom ; 

They  died — nor  were  those  flowers  more  gay, 
The  flowers  that  did  in  Eden  bloom ; 
Unpitying  frosts  and  Autumn’s  power 
Shall  leave  no  vestige  of  this  flower. 

From  morning  suns  and  evening  dews 
At  first  thy  little  being  came ; 

If  nothing  once,  you  nothing  lose, 

For  when  you  die  you  are  the  same ; 

The  space  between  is  but  an  hour, 

The  frail  duration  of  a flower. 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 

WOUTER  VAN  TWILLER. 

[From  The  History  of  New  York.'] 

The  renowned  Wouter  (or  AValter)  van  Twiller  was  de- 
scended from  a long  line  of  Dutch  burgomasters  who  had 
successively  dozed  away  their  lives  and  grown  fat  upon 
the  bench  of  magistracy  in  Rotterdam,  and  who  had  com- 
ported themselves  with  such  singular  wisdom  and  pro- 
priety that  they  were  never  either  heard  or  talked  of; 
which,  next  to  being  universally  applauded,  should  be  the 


184 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


object  of  ambition  of  all  magistrates  and  rulers.  There  are 
two  opposite  ways  by  which  some  men  make  a figure  in 
the  world:  one  by  talking  faster  than  they  think,  and  the 
other  by  holding  their  tongues  and  not  thinking  at  all. 
By  the  first  many  a smatterer  acquires  the  reputation  of  a 
man  of  quick  parts ; by  the  other  many  a dunderpate,  like 
the  owl,  the  stupidest  of  birds,  comes  to  be  considered  the 
very  type  of  wisdom.  This,  by  the  way,  is  a casual  re- 
mark which  I would  not,  for  the  universe,  have  it  thought 
I apply  to  Governor  van  Twiller.  It  is  true  he  was  a man 
shut  up  within  himself,  like  an  oyster,  and  rarely  spoke 
except  in  monosyllables ; but  then  it  wras  allowed  he  sel- 
dom said  a foolish  thing.  So  invincible  was  his  gravity 
that  he  was  never  known  to  laugh,  or  even  to  smile, 
through  the  whole  course  of  a long  and  prosperous  life. 
Nay,  if  a joke  were  uttered  in  his  presence  that  set  light- 
minded  hearers  in  a roar,  it  was  observed  to  throw  him 
into  a state  of  perplexity.  Sometimes  he  would  deign  to 
inquire  into  the  matter,  and  when,  after  much  explana- 
tion, the  joke  was  made  as  plain  as  a pike-staff,  he  would 
continue  to  smoke  his  pipe  in  silence,  and  at  length, 
knocking  out  the  ashes,  would  exclaim,  “ Well,  I see 
nothing  in  all  that  to  laugh  about.” 

With  all  his  reflective  habits  he  never  made  up  his 
mind  on  a subject.  His  adherents  accounted  for  this 
by  the  astonishing  magnitude  of  his  ideas.  He  con- 
ceived every  subject  on  so  grand  a scale  that  he  had 
not  room  in  his  head  to  turn  it  over  and  examine 
both  sides  of  it.  Certain  it  is  that  if  any  matter  were 
propounded  to  him  on  which  ordinary  mortals  would 
rashly  determine  at  first  glance,  he  would  put  on  a vague, 
mysterious  look,  shake  his  capacious  head,  smoke  some 
time  in  profound  silence,  and  at  length  observe  that c%  he 
had  his  doubts  about  the  matter which  gained  him  the 
reputation  of  a man  slow  of  belief  and  not  easily  imposed 
upon.  What  is  more,  it  gained  him  a lasting  name,  for  to 


WASHINGTON  IRVING . 


185 


this  habit  of  the  mind  has  been  attributed  his  surname  of 
T wilier,  which  is  said  to  be  a corruption  of  the  original 
Twijfler,  or,  in  plain  English,  Doubter. 

The  person  of  this  illustrious  old  gentleman  was  formed 
and  proportioned  as  though  it  had  been  moulded  by  the 
hands  of  some  cunning  Dutch  statuary  as  a model  of 
majesty  and  lordly  grandeur.  He  was  exactly  five  feet 
six  inches  in  height  and  six  feet  five  inches  in  circum- 
ference. His  head  was  a perfect  sphere,  and  of  such  stu- 
pendous dimensions  that  Dame  Nature,  with  all  her  sex’s 
ingenuity,  would  have  been  puzzled  to  construct  a neck 
capable  of  supporting  it;  wherefore  she  wisely  declined 
the  attempt,  and  settled  it  firmly  on  the  top  of  his  back- 
bone, just  between  the  shoulders.  His  body  was  oblong, 
and  particularly  capacious  at  bottom,  which  was  wisely 
ordered  by  Providence,  seeing  that  he  was  a man  of  seden- 
tary habits  and  very  averse  to  the  idle  labor  of  walking. 
His  legs  were  short,  but  sturdy  in  proportion  to  the  weight 
they  had  to  sustain ; so  that  when  erect  he  had  not  a little 
the  appearance  of  a beer-barrel  on  skids.  His  face,  that 
infallible  index  of  the  mind,  presented  a vast  expanse, 
unfurrowed  by  any  of  those  lines  and  angles  which  dis- 
figure the  human  countenance  with  what  is  termed  expres- 
sion. Two  small  gray  eyes  twinkled  feebly  in  the  midst, 
like  two  stars  of  lesser  magnitude  in  a hazy  firmament, 
and  his  full-fed  cheeks,  which  seemed  to  have  taken  toll 
of  everything  that  went  into  his  mouth,  were  curiously 
mottled  and  streaked  with  dusky  red,  like  a spitzenburg 
apple. 

His  habits  were  as  regular  as  his  person.  He  daily  took 
his  four  stated  meals,  appropriating  exactly  an  hour  to 
each ; he  smoked  and  doubted  eight  hours,  and  he  slept 
the  remaining  twelve  of  the  four-and-twenty.  Such  was 
the  renowned  AVouter  van  Twiller — a true  philosopher,  for 
his  mind  was  either  elevated  above,  or  tranquilly  settled 
below,  the  cares  and  perplexities  of  this  world.  He  had 


186 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


lived  in  it  for  years  without  feeling  the  least  curiosity  to 
know  whether  the  sun  revolved  round  it  or  it  round  the 
sun ; and  he  had  watched,  for  at  least  half  a century,  the 
smoke  curling  from  his  pipe  to  the  ceiling  without  once 
troubling  his  head  with  any  of  those  numerous  theories 
by  which  a philosopher  would  have  perplexed  his  brain 
in  accounting  for  its  rising  above  the  surrounding  atmo- 
sphere. 

In  his  council  he  presided  with  great  state  and  solem- 
nity. He  sat  in  a huge  chair  of  solid  oak,  hewn  in  the  cele- 
brated forest  of  The  Hague,  fabricated  by  an  experienced 
timberman  of  Amsterdam,  and  curiously  carved  about  the 
arms  and  feet  into  exact  imitations  of  gigantic  eagle’s 
claws.  Instead  of  a sceptre  he  swayed  a long  Turkish 
pipe,  wrought  with  jasmine  and  amber,  which  had  been 
presented  to  a stadtholder  of  Holland  at  the  conclusion 
of  a treaty  with  one  of  the  petty  Barbary  powers.  In 
this  stately  chair  would  he  sit ; and  this  magnificent  pipe 
would  he  smoke,  shaking  his  right  knee  with  a constant 
motion,  and  fixing  his  eye  for  hours  together  upon  a little 
print  of  Amsterdam  which  hung  in  a black  frame  against 
the  opposite  wall  of  the  council-chamber.  Nay,  it  has 
even  been  said  that  when  any  deliberation  of  extraordi- 
nary length  and  intricacy  was  on  the  carpet  the  renowned 
Wouter  would  shut  his  eyes  for  full  two  hours  at  a time, 
that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  by  external  objects ; and 
at  such  times  the  internal  commotion  of  his  mind  was 
evinced  by  certain  regular  guttural  sounds,  which  his 
admirers  declared  were  merely  the  noise  of  conflict 
made  by  his  contending  doubts  and  opinions.  . . . 

The  very  outset  of  the  career  of  this  excellent  magis- 
trate was  distinguished  by  an  example  of  legal  acumen 
that  gave  flattering  presage  of  a wise  and  equitable  admin- 
istration. The  morning  after  he  had  been  installed  in 
office,  and  at  the  moment  that  he  was  making  his  break- 
fast from  a prodigious  earthen  dish  filled  with  milk  and 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


187 


Indian  pudding,  he  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of 
Wandle  Schoonhoven,  a very  important  old  burgher  of 
New  Amsterdam,  who  complained  bitterly  of  one  Barent 
Bleecker,  inasmuch  as  he  refused  to  come  to  a settlement 
of  accounts,  seeing  that  there  was  a heavy  balance  in  favor 
of  the  said  Wandle.  Governor  van  T wilier,  as  I have 
already  observed,  was  a man  of  few  words ; he  was  like- 
wise a mortal  enemy  to  multiplying  writings — or  being 
disturbed  at  his  breakfast.  Having  listened  attentively 
to  the  statement  of  Wandle  Schoonhoven,  giving  an  occa- 
sional grunt  as  he  shovelled  a spoonful  of  Indian  pudding 
into  his  mouth — either  as  a sign  that  he  relished  the  dish 
or  comprehended  the  story — he  called  unto  him  his  con- 
stable, and,  pulling  out  of  his  breeches  pocket  a huge  jack- 
knife, despatched  it  after  the  defendant  as  a summons, 
accompanied  by  his  tobacco-box  as  a warrant. 

This  summary  process  was  as  effectual  in  those  simple 
days  as  was  the  seal  ring  of  the  great  Haroun  Alraschid 
among  the  true  believers.  The  two  parties  being  con- 
fronted before  him,  each  produced  a book  of  accounts, 
written  in  a language  and  character  that  would  have 
puzzled  any  but  a High  Dutch  commentator  or  a learned 
decipherer  of  Egyptian  obelisks.  The  sage  Wouter  took 
them  one  after  the  other,  and,  having  poised  them  in  his 
hands  and  attentively  counted  over  the  number  of  leaves, 
fell  straightway  into  a very  great  doubt,  and  smoked  for 
half  an  hour  without  saying  a word.  At  length,  laying 
his  finger  beside  his  nose  and  shutting  his  eyes  for  a 
moment  with  the  air  of  a man  who  has  just  caught  a 
subtle  idea  by  the  tail,  he  slowly  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  puffed  forth  a column  of  tobacco-smoke,  and  with 
marvellous  gravity  counted  over  the  leaves  and  weighed 
the  books ; it  was  found  that  one  was  just  as  thick  and  as 
heavy  as  the  other — therefore  it  was  the  final  opinion  of 
the  court  that  the  accounts  were  equally  balanced ; there- 
fore Wandle  should  give  Barent  a receipt,  and  Barent 


188 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


should  give  Wandle  a receipt,  and  the  constable  should 
pay  the  costs. 

This  decision,  being  straightway  made  known,  diffused 
general  joy  throughout  New  Amsterdam,  for  the  people 
immediately  perceived  that  they  had  a very  wise  and 
equitable  magistrate  to  rule  over  them.  But  its  hap- 
piest effect  was,  that  not  another  lawsuit  took  place 
throughout  the  whole  of  his  administration,  and  the 
office  of  constable  fell  into  such  decay  that  there  was 
not  one  of  those  losel  scouts  known  in  the  province  for 
many  years.  I am  the  more  particular  in  dwelling  on 
this  transaction,  not  only  because  I deem  it  one  of  the 
most  sage  and  righteous  judgments  on  record  and  well 
worthy  the  attention  of  modern  magistrates,  but  because 
it  was  a miraculous  event  in  the  history  of  the  renowned 
Wouter — being  the  only  time  he  was  ever  known  to  come 
to  a decision  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life. 


The  Charms  of  Rural  Life. 

[From  The  Sketch-Book .] 

In  rural  occupation  there  is  nothing  mean  and  debasing. 
It  leads  a man  forth  among  scenes  of  natural  grandeur  and 
beauty  ; it  leaves  him  to  the  workings  of  his  own  mind, 
operated  upon  by  the  purest  and  most  elevating  of  ex- 
ternal influences.  Such  a man  may  be  simple  and  rough, 
but  he  cannot  be  vulgar.  The  man  of  refinement,  there- 
fore, finds  nothing  revolting  in  an  intercourse  with  the 
lower  orders  in  rural  life,  as  he  does  when  he  casually 
mingles  with  the  lower  orders  of  cities.  He  lays  aside  his 
distance  and  reserve,  and  is  glad  to  waive  the  distinctions 
of  rank  and  to  enter  into  the  honest,  heartfelt  enjoyments 
of  common  life.  Indeed,  the  very  amusements  of  the 
country  bring  men  more  and  more  together,  and  the  sound 
of  hound  and  horn  blends  all  feelings  into  harmony.  I 


WA  SHING  TON  IR  VTNG. 


189 


believe  this  is  one  great  reason  why  the  nobility  and  gen- 
try are  more  popular  among  the  inferior  orders  in  Eng- 
land than  they  are  in  any  other  country,  and  why  the 
latter  have  endured  so  many  excessive  pressures  and  ex- 
tremities without  repining  more  generally  at  the  unequal 
distribution  of  fortune  and  privilege. 

To  this  mingling  of  cultivated  and  rustic  society  may 
also  be  attributed  the  rural  feeling  that  runs  through  British 
literature;  the  frequent  use  of  illustrations  from  rural  life; 
those  incomparable  descriptions  of  Nature  that  abound  in 
the  British  poets  that  have  continued  down  from  “ The 
Flower  and  the  Leaf  ” of  Chaucer,  and  have  brought  into 
our  closets  all  the  freshness  and  fragrance  of  the  dewy 
landscape.  The  pastoral  writers  of  other  countries  appear 
as  if  they  had  paid  Nature  an  occasional  visit  and  become 
acquainted  with  her  general  charms;  but  the  British 
poets  have  lived  and  revelled  with  her,  they  have  wooed 
her  in  her  most  secret  haunts,  they  have  watched  her 
minutest  caprices.  A spray  could  not  tremble  in  the 
breeze,  a leaf  could  not  rustle  to  the  ground,  a diamond 
drop  could  not  patter  in  the  stream,,  a fragrance  could  not 
exhale  from  the  humble  violet,  nor  a daisy  unfold  its 
crimson  tints  to  the  morning,  but  it  has  been  noticed  hy 
these  impassioned  and  delicate  observers  and  wrought  up 
into  some  beautiful  morality. 

The  effect  of  this  devotion  of  elegant  minds  to  rural 
occupations  has  been  wonderful  on  the  face  of  the  country. 
A great  part  of  the  island  is  rather  level,  and  would  be 
monotonous  were  it  not  for  the  charms  of  culture ; but  it 
is  studded  and  gemmed,  as  it  were,  with  castles  and 
palaces  and  embroidered  with  parks  and  gardens.  It 
does  not  abound  in  grand  and  sublime  prospects,  but 
rather  in  little  home-scenes  of  rural  repose  and  sheltered 
quiet.  Every  antique  farm-house  and  moss-grown  cottage 
is  a picture ; and  as  the  roads  are  continually  winding  and 
the  view  is  shut  in  by  groves  and  hedges,  the  eye  is  de- 


190 


AMERICAN  LITER  A TURE\ 


lighted  by  a continual  succession  of  small  landscapes  of 
captivating  loveliness. 

The  great  charm,  however,  of  English  scenery  is  the 
moral  feeling  that  seems  to  pervade  it.  It  is  associated  in 
the  mind  with  ideas  of  order,  of  quiet,  of  sober,  well-estab- 
lished principles,  of  hoary  usage  and  reverend  custom. 
Everything  seems  to  be  the  growth  of  ages  of  regular  and 
peaceful  existence.  The  old  church  of  remote  architecture, 
with  its  low,  massive  portal,  its  Gothic  tower,  its  windows 
rich  with  tracery  and  painted  glass  in  scrupulous  preser- 
vation ; its  stately  monuments  of  warriors  and  worthies  of 
the  olden  time,  ancestors  of  the  present  lords  of  the  soil ; 
its  tombstones,  recording  successive  generations  of  sturdy 
yeomanry  whose  progeny  still  plough  the  same  fields  and 
kneel  at  the  same  altar ; the  parsonage,  a quaint,  irregular 
pile,  partly  antiquated,  but  repaired  and  altered  in  the 
tastes  of  various  ages  and  occupations ; the  stile  and  foot- 
path leading  from  the  churchyard  across  pleasant  fields 
and  along  shady  hedgerows,  according  to  an  immemorial 
right  of  way ; the  neighboring  village,  with  its  venerable 
cottages,  its  public  green  sheltered  by  trees  under  which 
the  forefathers  of  the  present  race  have  sported ; the  an- 
tique family  mansion,  standing  apart  in  some  little  rural 
domain,  but  looking  down  with  a protecting  air  on  the 
surrounding  scene ; — all  these  common  features  of  English 
landscape  evince  a calm  and  settled  security  and  hereditary 
transmission  of  home-bred  virtues  and  local  attachments 
that  speak  deeply  and  touchingly  for  the  moral  character 
of  the  nation. 

It  is  a pleasing  sight  of  a Sunday  morning,  when  the 
bell  is  sending  its  sober  melody  across  the  quiet  fields,  to 
behold  the  peasantry  in  their  best  finery,  with  ruddy  faces 
and  modest  cheerfulness,  thronging  tranquilly  along  the 
green  lanes  to  church  ; but  it  is  still  more  pleasing  to  see 
them  in  the  evenings  gathering  about  their  cottage-doors, 
and  appearing  to  exult  in  the  humble  comforts  and  em- 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


191 


bellishments  which  their  own  hands  have  spread  around 
them. 

It  is  this  sweet  home-feeling,  this  settled  repose  of  affec- 
tion in  the  domestic  scene,  that  is,  after  all,  the  parent  of 
the  steadiest  virtues  and  purest  enjoyments. 


Moonlight  on  the  Alhambra. 

[From  The  Alhambra.'] 

On  taking  up  my  abode  in  the  Alhambra,  one  end  of  a 
suite  of  empty  chambers  of  modern  architecture,  intended 
for  the  residence  of  the  governor,  was  fitted  up  for  my  re- 
ception. It  was  in  front  of  the  palace,  looking  forth  upon 
the  esplanade.  The  farther  end  communicated  with  a 
cluster  of  little  chambers,  partly  Moorish,  partly  modern, 
inhabited  by  Tia  Antonia  and  her  family.  These  termi- 
nated in  a large  room  which  served  the  good  old  dame  for 
parlor,  kitchen,  and  hall  of  audience.  It  had  boasted  of 
some  splendor  in  the  time  of  the  Moors,  but  a fireplace 
had  been  built  in  one  corner,  the  smoke  from  which  had 
discolored  the  walls,  nearly  obliterated  the  ornaments,  and 
spread  a sombre  tint  over  the  whole.  From  these  gloomy 
apartments  a narrow  blind  corridor  and  a dark  winding 
staircase  led  down  an  angle  of  the  Tower  of  Comares; 
groping  down  which,  and  opening  a small  door  at  the  bot- 
tom, you  are  suddenly  dazzled  by  emerging  into  the  bril- 
liant antechamber  of  the  Hall  of  Ambassadors,  with  the 
fountain  of  the  Court  of  the  Alberca  sparkling  before 
you. 

I was  dissatisfied  with  being  lodged  in  a modern  and 
frontier  apartment  of  the  palace,  and  longed  to  ensconce 
myself  in  the  very  heart  of  the  building. 

As  I was  rambling  one  day  about  the  Moorish  halls  I 
found,  in  a remote  gallery,  a door  which  I had  not  before 
noticed,  communicating  apparently  with  an  extensive 


192 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


apartment  locked  up  from  the  public.  Here,  then,  was  a 
mystery;  here  was  the  haunted  wing  of  the  castle.  I 
procured  the  key,  however,  without  difficulty.  The  door 
opened  to  a range  of  vacant  chambers  of  European  archi- 
tecture, though  built  over  a Moorish  arcade  along  the 
little  garden  of  Lindaraxa.  There  were  two  lofty  rooms, 
the  ceilings  of  which  were  of  deep  panel-work  of  cedar, 
richly  and  skilfully  carved  with  fruits  and  flowers,  inter- 
mingled with  grotesque  masks  or  faces,  but  broken  in 
many  places.  The  walls  had  evidently,  in  ancient  times, 
been  hung  with  damask,  but  were  now  naked  and  scrawled 
over  with  the  insignificant  names  of  aspiring  travellers ; 
the  windows,  which  were  dismounted  and  open  to  wind 
and  weather,  looked  into  the  garden  of  Lindaraxa,  and 
the  orange  and  citron  trees  flung  their  branches  into  the 
chambers.  . . . 

The  first  night  I passed  in  these  quarters  was  inexpres- 
sibly dreary.  I was  escorted  by  the  whole  family  to  my 
chamber,  and  their  taking  leave  of  me  and  retiring  along 
the  waste  antechamber  and  echoing  galleries,  reminded 
me  of  those  hobgoblin  stories  where  the  hero  is  left  to 
accomplish  the  adventures  of  a haunted  house.  Soon  the 
thoughts  of  the  fair  Elizabetta  and  the  beauties  of  her  court, 
who  had  once  graced  these  chambers,  now  by  a perversion 
of  fancy  added  to  the  gloom.  Here  was  the  scene  of  their 
transient  gayety  and  loveliness ; here  were  the  very  traces 
of  their  elegance  and  enjoyment ; but  what  and  where 
were  they?  Dust  and  ashes ! tenants  of  the  tomb  ! phan- 
toms of  the  memory ! 

A vague  and  indescribable  awe  was  creeping  over  me. 
I would  fain  have  ascribed  it  to  the  thoughts  of  robbers 
awakened  by  the  evening’s  conversation,  but  I felt  that  it 
was  something  more  unusual  and  absurd.  In  a word,  the 
long-buried  impressions  of  the  nursery  were  reviving  and 
asserting  their  power  over  my  imagination.  Everything 
began  to  be  affected  by  the  workings  of  my  mind.  The 


WASHINGTON  IRVING. 


193 

whispering  of  the  wind  among  the  citron  trees  beneath 
my  window  had  something  sinister.  I cast  my  eyes  into 
the  garden  of  Lindaraxa : the  groves  presented  a gulf  of 
shadows;  the  thickets  had  indistinct  and  ghostly  shapes. 
I was  glad  to  close  the  window,  but  my  chamber  itself  be- 
came infected.  A bat  had  found  its  way  in,  and  flitted 
about  my  head  and  athwart  my  solitary  lamp ; the  gro- 
tesque faces  carved  in  the  cedar  ceiling  seemed  to  mope 
and  mow  at  me.  . . . 

I have  given  a picture  of  my  apartment  on  my  first  tak- 
ing possession  of  it;  a few  evenings  have  produced  a thor- 
ough change  in  the  scene  and  in  my  feelings.  The  moon, 
which  was  then  invisible,  has  gradually  gained  upon  the 
nights,  and  now  rolls  in  full  splendor  above  the  flowers, 
pouring  a flood  of  tempered  light  into  every  court  and 
hall.  The  garden  beneath  my  window  is  gently  lighted 
up ; the  orange  and  citron  trees  are  tipped  with  silver ; the 
fountain  sparkles  in  the  moonbeams,  and  even  the  blush 
of  the  rose  is  faintly  visible. 

I have  sat  for  hours  at  my  window  inhaling  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  garden  and  musing  on  the  chequered  features 
of  those  whose  history  is  dimly  shadowed  out  in  the  ele- 
gant memorials  around.  Sometimes  I have  issued  forth 
at  midnight,  when  everything  was  quiet,  and  have  wan- 
dered over  the  whole  building.  Who  can  do  justice  to  a 
moonlight  night  in  such  a climate  and  in  such  a place  ? 
The  temperature  of  an  Andalusian  midnight  in  summer 
is  perfectly  ethereal.  We  seem  lifted  up  into  a purer 
atmosphere;  there  is  a serenity  of  soul,  a buoyancy  of 
spirits,  an  elasticity  of  frame,  that  render  mere  existence 
enjoyment.  The  effect  of  moonlight,  too,  on  the  Alham- 
bra has  something  like  enchantment.  Every  rent  and 
chasm  of  time,  every  mouldering  tint  and  weather-stain, 
disappears;  the  marble  resumes  its  original  whiteness; 
the  long  colonnades  brighten  in  the  moonbeams ; the  halls 
are  illuminated  with  a softened  radiance,  until  the  whole 

13 


194  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 

edifice  reminds  one  of  the  enchanted  palace  of  an  Arabian 
tale. 

At  such  times  I have  ascended  to  the  little  pavilion 
called  the  Queen’s  Toilette  to  enjoy  its  varied  and  exten- 
sive prospect.  To  the  right,  the  snowy  summits  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  would  gleam  like  silver  clouds  against  the 
darker  firmament,  and  all  the  outlines  of  the  mountain 
would  be  softened,  yet  delicately  defined.  My  delight, 
however,  would  be  to  lean  over  the  parapet  of  the  tocador 
and  gaze  down  upon  Granada,  spread  out  like  a map  be- 
low me — all  buried  in  deep  repose,  and  its  white  palaces 
and  convents  sleeping  as  it  were  in  the  moonshine. 

Sometimes  I would  hear  the  faint  sounds  of  castanets 
from  some  party  of  dancers  lingering  in  the  Alameda ; at 
other  times  I have  heard  the  dubious  tones  of  a guitar  and 
the  notes  of  a single  voice  rising  from  some  solitary  street, 
and  have  pictured  to  myself  some  youthful  cavalier  sere- 
nading his  lady’s  window — a gallant  custom  of  former  days, 
but  now  sadly  on  the  decline,  except  in  the  remote  towns 
and  villages  of  Spain. 

Such  are  the  scenes  that  have  detained  me  for  many  an 
hour  loitering  about  the  courts  and  balconies  of  the  castle, 
enjoying  the  mixture  of  reverie  and  sensation  which  steals 
away  existence  in  a southern  climate;  and  it  has  been 
almost  morning  before  I have  retired  to  my  bed  and  been 
lulled  to  sleep  by  the  falling  waters  of  the  fountain  of 
Lindaraxa. 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER. 


195 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER. 

At  the  End  of  America. 

[From  The  Sea  Lions .] 

Directly  ahead  of  the  schooner  rose  a sort  of  pyra- 
mid of  broken  rocks,  which,  occupying  a small  island, 
stood  isolated  in  a measure,  and  some  distance  in  advance 
of  other  and  equally  rugged  ranges  of  mountains,  which 
belonged  also  to  islands  detached  from  the  mainland  thou- 
sands of  years  before  under  some  violent  convulsion  of 
Nature. 

It  was  quite  apparent  that  all  on  board  the  schooner  re- 
garded that  rugged  pyramid  with  lively  interest.  Most  of 
the  crew  were  collected  on  the  forecastle,  including  the 
officers,  and  all  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  ragged  pyramid 
which  they  were  diagonally  approaching.  The  principal 
spokesman  was  Stimson,  the  oldest  mariner  on  board,  and 
one  who  had  oftener  visited  those  seas  than  any  other  of 
the  crew. 

“You  know  the  spot,  do  you,  Stephen?”  demanded 
Roswell  Gardiner,  with  interest. 

“ Yes,  sir;  there’s  no  mistake.  That’s  the  Horn.  Eleven 
times  have  I doubled  it,  and  this  is  the  third  time  that 
I’ve  been  so  close  in  as  to  get  a fair  sight  of  it.  Once  I 
went  inside,  as  I’ve  told  you,  sir.” 

' “ I have  doubled  it  six  times  myself,”  said  Gardiner, 

“ but  never  saw  it  before.  Most  navigators  give  it  a wide 
berth.  ’Tis  said  to  be  the  stormiest  spot  on  the  known 
earth.” 

“ That’s  a mistake,  you  may  depend  on’t,  sir.  The  sow- 
westers  blow  great  guns  hereabouts,  it  is  true  enough ; and 
when  they  do,  sich  a sea  comes  tumbling  in  on  that  rock 
as  man  never  seed  anywhere  else  perhaps;  but,  on  the 
whull,  I’d  rather  be  close  in  here  than  two  hundred  miles 


196 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


farther  to  the  southward.  With  the  wind  at  sow-west  and 
heavy,  a better  start  might  be  made  from  the  southern 
position ; but  here  I know  where  I am,  and  I’d  go  in  and 
anchor,  and  wait  for  the  gale  to  blow  itself  out.” 

“ Talking  of  seas,  Captain  Gar’ner,”  observed  Hazard, 
“ don’t  you  think,  sir,  we  begin  to  feel  the  swell  of  the 
Pacific?  Smooth  as  the  surface  of  the  water  is,  here  is  a 
ground-swell  rolling  in  that  must  be  twelve  or  fifteen  feet 
in  height.” 

“There’s  no  doubt  of  that.  We  have  felt  the  swell  of 
the  Pacific  these  two  hours;  no  man  can  mistake  that. 
The  Atlantic  has  no  such  waves.  This  is  an  ocean  in 
reality,  and  this  is  its  stormiest  part.  The  wind  fresh- 
ens and  hauls,  and  I’m  afraid  we  are  about  to  be  caught 
close  in  here  with  a regular  sow-west  gale.” 

“Let  it  come,  sir,  let  it  come,”  put  in  Stimson  again; 
“ if  it  does,  we’ve  only  to  run  in  and  anchor.  I can  stand 
pilot,  and  I promise  to  carry  the  schooner  where  twenty 
sow-westers  will  do  her  no  harm.  What  I’ve  seen  done 
once  I know  can  be  done  again.  The  time  will  come  when 
the  Horn  will  be  a reg’lar  harbor.”  . . . 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  better  understand  those 
incidents  of  our  narrative  which  we  are  about  to  relate, 
it  may  be  well  to  say  a word  of  the  geographical  features 
of  the  region  to  which  he  has  been  transported — in  fiction, 
if  not  in  fact.  At  the  southern  extremity  of  the  American 
continent  is  a cluster  of  islands  which  are  dark,  sterile, 
rocky,  and  most  of  the  year  covered  with  snow.  Ever- 
greens relieve  the  aspect  of  sterility  in  places  that  are  a 
little  sheltered,  and  there  is  a meagre  vegetation,  in  spots, 
that  serves  to  sustain  animal  life.  The  first  strait  which 
separates  this  cluster  of  islands  from  the  main  is  that  of 
Magellan,  through  which  vessels  occasionally  pass  in  pref- 
erence to  going  farther  south.  Then  comes  Tierra  del 
Fuego,  which  is  much  the  largest  of  all  the  islands.  To 
the  southward  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  lies  a cluster  of  many 


JAMES  FENIMOBE  COOPER. 


197 


small  islands  which  bear  different  names,  though  the  group 
farthest  south  of  all,  and  which  it  is  usual  to  consider  as 
the  southern  termination  of  our  noble  continent,  but  which 
is  not  on  a continent  at  all,  is  known  by  the  appropriate 
appellation  of  the  Hermits.  If  solitude  and  desolation 
and  want  and  a contemplation  of  some  of  the  sublimest 
features  of  this  earth  can  render  a spot  fit  for  a hermitage, 
these  islands  are  very  judiciously  named.  The  one  that  is 
farthest  south  contains  the  cape  itself,  which  is  marked  by 
the  ragged  pyramid  of  rock  already  mentioned,  placed 
there  by  Nature,  a never-tiring  sentinel  of  the  war  of  the 
elements.  Behind  this  cluster  of  the  Hermits  it  was  that 
Stimson  advised  his  officer  to  take  refuge  against  the  ap- 
proaching gale,  of  which  the  signs  were  now  becoming 
obvious  and  certain.  . . . 

“ You  are  quite  sure  that  this  high  peak  is  the  Horn, 
Stimson?”  Gardiner  observed,  inquiringly. 

“ Sartain  of  it,  sir.  There’s  no  mistaking  sich  a place, 
which,  once  seen,  is  never  forgotten.” 

“ It  agrees  with  the  charts  and  our  reckoning,  and  I may 
say  it  agrees  with  our  eyes  also. — Here  is  the  Pacific  Ocean 
plain  enough,  Mr.  Hazard.” 

“ So  I think,  sir.  We  are  at  the  end  of  Ameriky,  if  it 
has  an  end  anywhere.  This  heavy  long  swell  is  an  old 
acquaintance,  though  I never  was  in  close  enough  to  see 
the  land  hereabouts  before.” 

“ It  is  fortunate  we  have  one  trusty  hand  on  board  who 
can  stand  pilot. — Stimson,  I intend  to  go  in  and  anchor, 
and  I shall  trust  to  you  to  carry  me  into  a snug  berth.” 
“ I’ll  do  it,  Captain  Gar’ner,  if  the  weather  will  permit 
it,”  returned  the  seaman,  with  an  unpretending  sort  of 
confidence  that  spoke  well  for  his  ability. 

Preparations  were  now  commenced  in  earnest  to  come 
to.  It  was  time  that  some  steady  course  should  be 
adopted,  as  the  wind  was  getting  up  and  the  schooner 
was  rapidly  approaching  the  land.  In  half  an  hour  the 


198 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Sea-Lion  was  bending  to  a little  gale,  with  her  canvas 
reduced  to  close-reefed  mainsail  and  foresail  and  the  bon- 
net off  her  jib.  The  sea  was  fast  getting  up,  though  it 
came  in  long  and  mountain-like.  Roswell  dreaded  the 
mist.  Could  he  pass  through  the  narrow  channels  that 
Stimson  had  described  to  him  with  a clear  sky,  one  half 
of  his  causes  of  anxiety  would  be  removed.  But  the 
wind  was  not  a clear  one,  and  he  felt  that  no  time  was 
to  be  lost. 

It  required  great  nerve  to  approach  a coast  like  that  of 
Cape  Horn  in  such  weather.  As  the  schooner  got  nearer 
to  the  real  cape,  the  sight  of  the  seas  tumbling  in  and 
breaking  on  its  ragged  rock,  and  the  hollow  roaring  sound 
they  made,  actually  became  terrific.  To  add  to  the  awe 
inspired  in  the  breast  of  even  the  most  callous-minded 
man  on  board,  came  a doubt  whether  the  schooner  could 
weather  a certain  point  of  rock,  the  western  extremity  of 
the  island,  after  she  had  got  so  far  into  a bight  as  to  ren- 
der wearing  questionable  if  not  impossible.  Every  one 
now  looked  grave  and  anxious.  Should  the  schooner  go 
ashore  in  such  a place,  a single  minute  would  suffice  to 
break  her  to  pieces,  and  not  a soul  could  expect  to  be 
saved.  Roswell  was  exceedingly  anxious,  though  he 
remained  cool. 

“ The  tides  and  eddies  about  these  rocks,  and  in  so 
high  a latitude,  sweep  a vessel  like  chips,”  he  said  to 
his  chief  mate.  “ We  have  been  set  in  here  by  an  eddy, 
and  a terrible  place  it  is.” 

“All  depends  on  our  gear’s  holding  on,  sir,”  was  the 
answer,  “ with  a little  on  Providence.  Just  watch  the 
point  ahead,  Captain  Gar’ner:  though  we  are  not  act- 
ually to  leeward  of  it,  see  with  what  a drift  we  have 
drawn  upon  it.  The  manner  in  which  these  seas  roll 
in  from  the  sow-west  is  terrific.  No  craft  can  go  to 
windward  against  them.” 

This  remark  of  Hazard’s  was  very  just.  The  seas  that 


JAMES  FEN  I M OB  E COOPER. 


199 


came  down  upon  the  cape  resembled  a rolling  prairie  in 
their  outline.  A single  wave  would  extend  a quarter  of  a 
mile  from  trough  to  trough,  and  as  it  passed  beneath  the 
schooner,  lifting  her  high  in  the  air,  it  really  seemed  as  if 
the  glancing  water  would  sweep  her  away  in  its  force. 
But  human  art  had  found  the  means  to  counteract  even 
this  imposing  display  of  the  power  of  Nature.  The  little 
schooner  rode  over  the  billows  like  a duck,  and  when  she 
sank  between  two  of  them,  it  was  merely  to  rise  again  on  a 
new  summit  and  breast  the  gale  gallantly.  It  was  the  cur- 
rent that  menaced  the  greatest  danger;  for  that,  unseen 
except  in  its  fruits,  was  clearly  setting  the  little  craft  to 
leeward  and  bodily  toward  the  rocks.  By  this  time  our 
adventurers  were  so  near  to  the  land  that  they  almost  gave 
up  hope  itself.  Cape  Hatteras  and  its  much-talked-of  dan- 
ger seemed  a place  of  refuge  compared  to  that  in  which  our 
navigators  now  found  themselves.  Could  the  deepest  bel- 
lowings  of  ten  thousand  bulls  be  united  in  a common  roar, 
the  noise  would  not  have  equalled  that  of  the  hollow  sound 
which  issued  from  a sea  as  it  went  into  some  cavern  of  the 
rocks.  Then  the  spray  filled  the  air  like  driving  rain,  and 
there  were  minutes  when  the  cape,  though  so  frightfully 
near,  was  hid  from  view  by  the  vapor. 

At  this  precise  moment  the  Sea-Lion  was  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a mile  to  windward  of  the  point  she  was  strug- 
gling to  weather,  and  toward  which  she  was  driving  under 
a treble  impetus — that  of  the  wind  acting  on  her  sails  and 
pressing  her  ahead  at  the  rate  of  fully  five  knots,  for  the 
craft  was  kept  a rap  full ; that  of  the  eddy  or  current ; and 
that  of  the  rolling  waters.  No  man  spoke,  for  each  person 
felt  that  the  crisis  was  one  in  which  silence  wTas  a sort  of 
homage  to  the  Deity.  Some  prayed  privately,  and  all  gazed 
on  the  low  rocky  point  that  it  was  indispensable  to  pass  to 
avoid  destruction.  There  was  one  favorable  circumstance : 
the  water  was  known  to  be  deep  quite  close  to  the  iron- 
bound  coast,  and  it  was  seldom  that  any  danger  existed 


200 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


that  it  was  not  visible  to  the  eye.  This  Roswell  knew  from 
Stimson’s  accounts,  as  well  as  from  those  of  other  mari- 
ners, and  he  saw  that  the  fact  was  of  the  last  importance 
to  him.  Should  he  be  able  to  weather  the  point  ahead, 
that  which  terminated  at  the  mouth  of  the  passage  that 
led  within  the  Hermits,  it  was  now  certain  it  could  be 
done  only  by  going  fearfully  near  the  rocks. 

Roswell  Gardiner  took  his  station  between  the  knight- 
heads,  beckoning  to  Stimson  to  come  near  him.  At  the 
same  time  Hazard  himself  went  to  the  helm. 

“ Do  you  remember  this  place  ?”  asked  the  young  mas- 
ter of  the  old  seaman. 

“ This  is  the  spot,  sir ; and  if  we  can  round  the  rocky 
point  ahead  I will  take  you  to  a safe  anchorage.  Our  drift 
is  awful,  or  we  are  in  an  eddy  tide  here,  sir.” 

“ It  is  the  eddy,”  answered  Roswell,  calmly,  “ though 
our  drift  is  not  trifling.  This  is  getting  frightfully  near  to 
that  point.” 

“ Hold  on,  sir — it’s  our  only  chance — hold  on,  and  we 
may  rub  and  go.” 

“ If  we  rub  we  are  lost;  that  is  certain  enough.  Should 
we  get  by  this  first  point,  there  is  another  a short  distance 
beyond  it,  which  must  certainly  fetch  us  up,  I fear.  See ! 
it  opens  more  as  we  draw  ahead.” 

Stimson  saw  the  new  danger,  and  fully  appreciated  it. 
He  did  not  speak,  however;  for,  to  own  the  truth,  he  now 
abandoned  all  hope,  and,  being  a piously-inclined  person, 
he  was  privately  addressing  himself  to  God.  Every  man 
on  board  was  fully  aware  of  the  character  of  this  new  dan- 
ger, and  all  seemed  to  forget  that  of  the  nearest  point  of 
rock,  toward  which  they  were  now  wading  with  portentous 
speed.  That  point  might  be  passed — there  was  a little  hope 
there;  but  as  to  the  point  a quarter  of  a mile  beyond,  with 
the  leeward  set  of  the  schooner  the  most  ignorant  hand  on 
board  saw  how  unlikely  it  was  that  they  should  get  by  it. 

An  imposing  silence  prevailed  in  the  schooner  as  she 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER. 


201 


came  abreast  of  the  first  rock.  It  was  about  fifty  fathoms 
under  the  lee  bow,  and,  as  to  that  spot,  all  depended  on  the 
distance  outward  that  the  dangers  thrust  themselves.  This 
it  was  impossible  to  see  amid  the  chaos  of  waters  produced 
by  the  collision  between  the  waves  and  the  land.  Roswell 
fastened  his  eyes  on  objects  ahead  to  note  the  rate  of  his 
leeward  set,  and  with  a seaman’s  quickness  he  noted  the 
first  change. 

“ She  feels  the  under-tow,  Stephen,”  he  said,  in  a voice 
so  compressed  as  to  seem  to  come  out  of  the  depths  of  his 
chest,  “ and  is  breasted  up  to  windward.” 

“What  means  that  sudden  luff,  sir?  Mr.  Hazard  must 
keep  a good  full  or  we  shall  have  no  chance.” 

Gardiner  looked  aft,  and  saw  that  the  mate  was  bearing 
the  helm  well  up,  as  if-  he  met  with  much  resistance.  The 
truth  then  flashed  upon  him,  and  he  shouted  out, 

“All’s  well,  boys!  God  be  praised,  we  have  caught  the 
ebb-tide  under  our  lee  bow  !” 

These  few  words  explained  the  reason  of  the  change. 
Instead  of  setting  to  leeward,  the  schooner  was  now  meet- 
ing a powerful  tide  of  some  four  or  five  knots,  which 
hawsed  her  up  to  windward  with  irresistible  force.  As 
if  conscious  of  the  danger  she  was  in,  the  tight  little  craft 
receded  from  the  rocks  as  she  shot  ahead,  and  rounded  the 
second  point,  which,  a minute  before,  had  appeared  to  be 
placed  there  purposely  to  destroy  her.  It  was  handsomely 
doubled  at  the  safe  distance  of  a hundred  fathoms.  Ros- 
well believed  he  might  now  beat  his  schooner  off  the  land 
far  enough  to  double  the  cape  altogether,  could  he  but 
keep  her  in  that  current.  It  doubtless  expended  itself, 
however,  a short  distance  in  the  offing,  as  its  waters  dif- 
fused themselves  on  the  breast  of  the  ocean ; and  it  was 
this  diffusion  of  the  element  that  produced  the  eddy 
which  had  proved  so  nearly  fatal. 

In  ten  minutes  after  striking  the  tide  the  schooner 
opened  the  passage  fairly,  and  was  kept  away  to  enter  it. 


202 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Notwithstanding  it  blew  so  heavily,  the  rate  of  sailing,  by 
the  land,  did  not  exceed  five  knots.  This  was  owing  to 
the  great  strength  of  the  tide,  which  sometimes  rises  and 
falls  thirty  feet  in  high  latitudes  and  narrow  waters. 

Stimson  now  showed  he  was  a man  to  be  relied  on. 
Conning  the  craft  intelligently,  he  took  her  in  behind  the 
island  on  which  the  cape  stands,  luffed  her  up  into  a tiny 
cove,  and  made  a cast  of  the  lead.  There  were  fifty  fath- 
oms of  water,  with  a bottom  of  mud.  With  the  certainty 
that  there  was  enough  of  the  element  to  keep  him  clear  of 
the  ground  at  low  water,  and  that  his  anchors  would  hold, 
Roswell  made  a flying  moor,  and  veered  out  enough  cable 
to  render  his  vessel  secure.  . . . No  navigator  but  a sealer 
would  have  dreamed  of  carrying  his  vessel  into  such  a 
place,  but  it  is  a part  of  their  calling  to  poke  about  in 
channels  and  passages  where  no  one  else  has  ever  been. 
It  was  in  this  way  that  Stimson  had  learned  to  know 
where  to  find  his  present  anchorage.  The  berth  of  the 
schooner  was  perfectly  snug  and  entirely  landlocked. 
The  tremendous  swell  that  was  rolling  in  on  the  outside 
caused  the  waters  to  rise  and  fall  a little  within  the  pas- 
sage, but  there  was  no  strain  upon  the  cables  in  conse- 
quence. Neither  did  the  rapid  tides  affect  the  craft,  which 
lay  in  an  eddy  that  nearly  kept  her  steady.  The  gale  came 
howling  over  the  Hermits,  but  was  so  much  broken  by  the 
rocks  as  to  do  little  more  than  whistle  through  the  cordage 
and  spars  aloft.  . . . 

Taking  Stimson  with  him  to  carry  a glass  and  armed 
with  an  old  lance  as  a pike-pole  to  aid  his  efforts,  Ros- 
well Gardiner  now  commenced  the  ascent  of  the  pyramid 
already  mentioned.  It  was  rugged  and  offered  a thousand 
obstacles,  but  none  that  vigor  and  resolution  could  not  over- 
come. After  a few  minutes  of  violent  exertion,  and  by  help- 
ing each  other  in  difficult  places,  both  Roswell  and  Stimson 
succeeded  in  placing  themselves  on  the  summit  of  the  ele- 
vation, which  was  an  irregular  peak.  The  height  was 


JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER . 


203 


considerable,  and  gave  an  extended  view  of  the  adjacent 
islands  as  well  as  of  the  gloomy  and  menacing  ocean  to 
the  southward.  The  earth  probably  does  not  contain  a 
more  remarkable  sentinel  than  this  pyramid  on  which  our 
hero  had  now  taken  his  station.  There  it  stood,  actually 
the  Ultima  Thule  of  this  vast  continent,  or,  what  was  much 
the  same,  so  closely  united  to  it  as  to  seem  a part  of  our 
own  moiety  of  the  globe,  looking  out  on  the  broad  expanse 
of  waters.  The  eye  saw  to  the  right  the  Pacific,  in  front 
was  the  Southern  or  Antarctic  Ocean,  and  to  the  left  was 
the  great  Atlantic.  For  several  minutes  both  Roswell  and 
Stephen  sat  mute,  gazing  on  this  grand  spectacle.  By  turn- 
ing their  faces  north  they  beheld  the  highlands  of  Tierra 
del  Fuego,  of  which  many  of  the  highest  peaks  were  cov- 
ered with  snow.  The  pyramid  on  which  they  were,  how- 
ever, was  no  longer  white  with  the  congealed  rain,  but 
stood  stern  and  imposing  in  its  native  brown.  The  out- 
lines of  all  the  rocks  and  the  shores  of  the  different  islands 
had  an  appearance  of  volcanic  origin,  though  the  rocks 
themselves  told  a somewhat  different  story.  The  last  were 
principally  of  trap  formation.  Cape-pigeons,  gulls,  petrels, 
and  albatross  were  wheeling  about  in  the  air,  while  the 
rollers  that  still  came  in  on  this  noble  sea-wall  were  really 
terrific.  Distant  thunder  wants  the  hollow,  bellowing  sound 
that  these  waves  made  when  brought  in  contact  with  the 
shores.  Roswell  fancied  that  it  was  like  a groan  of  the 
mighty  Pacific  at  finding  its  progress  suddenly  checked. 
The  spray  continued  to  fly,  and  much  of  the  time  the  air 
below  his  elevated  seat  was  filled  with  vapor. 


204 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE. 

[From  The  Culprit  Fay.'] 

III. 

’Tis  the  hour  of  fairy  ban  and  spell ; 

The  wood-tick  has  kept  the  minutes  well ; 

He  has  counted  them  all  with  click  and  stroke 
Deep  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain-oak. 

And  he  has  awakened  the  sentry  elve 

Who  sleeps  with  him  in  the  haunted  tree, 

To  bid  him  ring  the  hour  of  twelve 
And  call  the  fays  to  their  revelry ; 

Twelve  small  strokes  on  his  tinkling  bell 
(’Twas  made  of  the  white  snail’s  pearly  shell) — 
“ Midnight  comes,  and  all  is  well ; 

Hither,  hither,  wing  your  way ; 

’Tis  the  dawn  of  the  fairy-day.” 


IV. 

They  come  from  beds  of  lichen  green, 

They  creep  from  the  mullein’s  velvet  screen ; 

Some  on  the  backs  of  beetles  fly 

From  the  silver  tops  of  moon-touched  trees, 
Where  they  swung  in  their  cobweb  hammocks  high, 
And  rocked  about  in  the  evening  breeze  ; 

Some  from  the  hum-bird’s  downy  nest — 

They  had  driven  him  out  by  elfin  power — 

And,  pillowed  on  plumes  of  his  rainbow  breast, 

Had  slumbered  there  till  the  charmed  hour; 

Some  had  lain  in  the  scoop  of  the  rock, 

With  glittering  ising-stars  inlaid; 

And  some  had  opened  the  four-o’-clock 
And  stol’n  within  its  purple  shade ; 


JOSEPH  RODMAN  DRAKE. 


205 


And  now  they  throng  the  moonlight  glade 
Above,  below,  on  every  side, 

Their  little  minim  forms  arrayed 
In  the  tricksy  pomp  of  fairy  pride. 

^ % SjC 

XXV. 

He  put  his  acorn  helmet  on — 

It  was  plumed  of  the  silk  of  the  thistle-down ; 

The  corselet-plate  that  guarded  his  breast 
Was  once  the  wild  bee’s  golden  vest; 

His  cloak,  of  a thousand  mingled  dyes, 

Was  formed  of  the  wings  of  butterflies; 

His  shield  was  the  shell  of  a lady-bug  queen, 

Studs  of  gold  on  a ground  of  green ; 

And  the  quivering  lance  which  he  brandished  bright 
Was  the  sting  of  a wasp  he  had  slain  in  fight. 

Swift  he  bestrode  his  firefly  steed ; 

He  bared  his  blade  of  the  bent-grass  blue ; 

He  drove  his  spurs  of  the  cockle-seed, 

And  away  like  a glance  of  thought  he  flew 
To  skim  the  heavens,  and  follow  far 
The  fiery  trail  of  the  rocket-star. 

xxvi. 

The  moth-fly,  as  he  shot  in  air, 

Crept  under  the  leaf  and  hid  her  there ; 

The  katydid  forgot  its  lay, 

The  prowling  gnat  fled  fast  away  ; 

The  fell  mosquito  checked  his  drone 
And  folded  his  wings  till  the  Fay  was  gone ; 

And  the  wily  beetle  dropped  his  head, 

And  fell  on  the  ground  as  if  he  were  dead ; 

They  crouched  them  close  in  the  darksome  shade, 
They  quaked  all  o’er  with  awe  and  fear, 


206 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


For  they  had  felt  the  blue-bent  blade, 

And  writhed  at  the  prick  of  the  elfin  spear. 

Many  a time  on  a summer’s  night, 

When  the  sky  was  clear  and  the  moon  was  bright, 
They  had  been  roused  from  the  haunted  ground 
By  the  yelp  and  bay  of  the  fairy-hound ; 

They  had  heard  the  tiny  bugle  horn, 

They  had  heard  the  twang  of  the  maize-silk  string 
When  the  vine-twig  bows  were  tightly  drawn 
And  the  nettle-shaft  through  air  was  borne, 
Feathered  with  down  of  the  hum-bird’s  wing. 

And  now  they  deemed  the  courier  ouphe 
Some  hunter  sprite  of  the  elfin  ground ; 

And  they  watched  till  they  saw  him  mount  the  roof 
That  canopies  the  world  around ; 

Then  glad  they  left  their  covert  lair, 

And  freaked  about  in  the  midnight  air. 


FITZ-GREENE  HALLECK. 

On  the  Death  of  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  of 
New  York,  September,  1820. 

“The  good  die  first, 

And  they  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer  dust 
Burn  to  the  socket” — Wordsworth. 

Green  be  the  turf  above  thee, 

Friend  of  my  better  days, 

None  knew  thee  but  to  love  thee, 

Nor  named  thee  but  to  praise. 

Tears  fell  when  thou  wert  dying 
From  eyes  unused  to  weep, 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


And  long  where  thou  art  lying 
Will  tears  the  cold  turf  steep. 

When  hearts  whose  truth  was  proven, 
Like  thine,  are  laid  in  earth, 

There  should  a wreath  be  woven 
To  tell  the  world  their  worth. 

And  I,  who  woke  each  morrow 
To  clasp  thy  hand  in  mine, 

Who  shared  thy  joy  and  sorrow, 
Whose  weal  and  woe  were  thine, — 

It  should  be  mine  to  braid  it 
Around  thy  faded  brow ; 

But  I’ve  in  vain  essayed  it, 

And  feel  I cannot  now. 

While  memory  bids  me  weep  thee, 
Nor  thoughts  nor  words  are  free, 

The  grief  is  fixed  too  deeply 
That  mourns  a man  like  thee. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 
Thanatopsis. 

To  him  who  in  the  love  of  Nature  holds 
Communion  with  her  visible  forms,  she  speaks 
A various  language ; for  his  gayer  hours 
She  has  a voice  of  gladness,  and  a smile 
And  eloquence  of  beauty,  and  she  glides 
Into  his  darker  musings  with  a mild 
And  healing  sympathy,  that  steals  away 


208 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Their  sharpness  ere  he  is  aware.  When  thoughts 
Of  the  last  bitter  hour  come  like  a blight 
Over  thy  spirit,  and  sad  images 
Of  the  stern  agony,  and  shroud,  and  pall, 

And  breathless  darkness,  and  the  narrow  house, 

Make  thee  to  shudder  and  grow  sick  at  heart, — 

Go  forth,  under  the  open  sky,  and  list 
To  Nature’s  teachings,  while  from  all  around — 

Earth  and  her  waters,  and  the  depths  of  air — 

Comes  a still  voice : Yet  a few  days,  and  thee 
The  all-beholding  sun  shall  see  no  more 
In  all  his  course ; nor  yet  in  the  cold  ground, 

Where  thy  pale  form  was  laid  with  many  tears, 

Nor  in  the  embrace  of  ocean,  shall  exist 

Thy  image.  Earth,  that  nourished  thee,  shall  claim 

Thy  growth,  to  be  resolved  to  earth  again, 

And,  lost  each  human  trace,  surrendering  up 
Thine  individual  being,  shalt  thou  go 
To  mix  for  ever  with  the  elements, 

To  be  a brother  to  the  insensible  rock, 

And,  to  the  sluggish  clod,  which  the  rude  swain 
Turns  with  his  share,  and  treads  upon.  The  oak 
Shall  send  his  roots  abroad,  and  pierce  thy  mould. 

Yet  not  to  thine  eternal  resting-place 
Shalt  thou  retire  alone — nor  couldst  thou  wish 
Couch  more  magnificent.  Thou  shalt  lie  down 
With  patriarchs  of  the  infant  world — with  kings, 

The  powerful  of  the  earth,  the  wise,  the  good, 

Fair  forms,  and  hoary  seers  of  ages  past, 

All  in  one  mighty  sepulchre.  The  hills, 

Rock-ribbed  and  ancient  as  the  sun ; the  vales 
Stretching  in  pensive  quietness  between ; 

The  venerable  woods ; rivers  that  move 

In  majesty,  and  the  complaining  brooks 

That  make  the  meadows  green ; and,  poured  round  all, 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


209 


Old  Ocean’s  gray  and  melancholy  waste, — 

Are  but  the  solemn  decorations  all 

Of  the  great  tomb  of  man.  The  golden  sun, 

The  planets,  all  the  infinite  host  of  heaven, 

Are  shining  on  the  sad  abodes  of  death 
Through  the  still  lapse  of  ages.  All  that  tread 
The  globe  are  but  a handful  to  the  tribes 
That  slumber  in  its  bosom.  Take  the  wings 
Of  morning,  traverse  Barca’s  desert  sands, 

Or  lose  thyself  in  the  continuous  woods 
Where  rolls  the  Oregon,  and  hears  no  sound 
Save  his  own  dashings — yet  the  dead  are  there; 

And  millions  in  those  solitudes,  since  first 
The  flight  of  years  began,  have  laid  them  down 
In  their  last  sleep — the  dead  reign  there  alone. 

So  shalt  thou  rest.  And  what  if  thou  withdraw 
Unheeded  by  the  living,  and  no  friend 
Take  note  of  thv  departure  ? All  that  breathe 
Will  share  thy  destiny.  The  gay  will  laugh 
When  thou  art  gone,  the  solemn  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  as  before  will  chase 
His  favorite  phantom ; yet  all  these  shall  leave 
Their  mirth  and  their  employments,  and  shall  come 
And  make  their  bed  with  thee.  As  the  long  train 
Of  ages  glide  away,  the  sons  of  men — 

The  youth  in  life’s  green  spring,  and  he  who  goes 
In  the  full  strength  of  years ; matron,  and  maid, 
And  the  sweet  babe,  and  the  gray-headed  man, — 
Shall  one  by  one  be  gathered  to  thy  side 
By  those  who,  in  their  turn,  shall  follow  them. 

So  live  that  when  thy  summons  comes  to  join 
The  innumerable  caravan,  that  moves 
To  that  mysterious  realm,  where  each  shall  take 
His  chamber  in  the  silent  halls  of  death, 

Thou  go  not  like  the  quarry-slave  at  night 

14 


210 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Scourged  to  his  dungeon,  but,  sustained  and  soothed 
By  an  unfaltering  trust,  approach  thy  grave 
Like  one  who  wraps  the  drapery  of  his  couch 
About  him,  and  lies  down  to  pleasant  dreams. 

To  a Water-Fowl. 

Whither,  ’midst  falling  dew, 

While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  of  day, 
Far  through  their  rosy  depths  dost  thou  pursue 
Thy  solitary  way  ? 

Vainly  the  fowler’s  eye 

Might  mark  thy  distant  flight  to  do  thee  wrong, 
As,  darkly  painted  on  the  crimson  sky, 

Thy  figure  floats  along. 

Seek’st  thou  the  plashy  brink 

Of  weedy  lake  or  marge  of  river  wide, 

Or  where  the  rocking  billows  rise  and  sink 
On  the  chafed  ocean-side  ? 

There  is  a Power  whose  care 

Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast, — 

The  desert  and  illimitable  air, 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost. 

All  day  thy  wings  have  fanned, 

At  that  far  height,  the  cold,  thin  atmosphere, 

Yet  stoop  not,  weary,  to  the  welcome  land, 

Though  the  dark  night  is  near. 

And  soon  that  toil  shall  end ; 

Soon  shalt  thou  find  a summer  home,  and  rest, 
And  scream  among  thy  fellows  ; reeds  shall  bend 
Soon  o’er  thy  sheltered  nest. 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


211 


Thou’rt  gone ; the  abyss  of  heaven 

Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form,  yet  on  my  heart 
Deeply  hath  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 

And  shall  not  soon  depart : 

He  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 

Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  long  way  that  I must  tread  alone 
Will  lead  my  steps  aright. 

The  Prairies. 

These  are  the  gardens  of  the  desert,  these 
The  unshorn  fields,  boundless  and  beautiful, 

For  which  the  speech  of  England  has  no  name — 

The  Prairies.  I behold  them  for  the  first, 

And  my  heart  swells,  while  the  dilated  sight 
Takes  in  the  encircling  vastness.  Lo  ! they  stretch, 
In  airy  undulations,  far  away, 

As  if  the  Ocean,  in  his  gentlest  swell, 

Stood  still,  with  all  his  rounded  billows  fixed 
And  motionless  for  ever.  Motionless  ? 

No,  they  are  all  unchained  again.  The  clouds 
Sweep  over  with  their  shadows,  and,  beneath, 

The  surface  rolls  and  fluctuates  to  the  eye ; 

Dark  hollows  seem  to  glide  along  and  chase 
The  sunny  ridges.  Breezes  of  the  South ! 

Who  toss  the  golden  and  the  flame-like  flowers, 

And  pass  the  prairie-hawk  that,  poised  on  high, 

Flaps  his  broad  wings,  yet  moves  not — ye  have  played 
Among  the  palms  of  Mexico  and  vines 
Of  Texas,  and  have  crisped  the  limpid  brooks 
That  from  the  fountains  of  Sonora  glide 
Into  the  calm  Pacific — have  ye  fanned 
A nobler  or  a lovelier  scene  than  this  ? 

Man  hath  no  power  in  all  this  glorious  work  : 


212 


AMERICAN  LITERATE  RE. 


The  Hand  that  built  the  firmament  hath  heaved 
And  smoothed  these  verdant  swells,  and  sown  their 
slopes 

With  herbage,  planted  them  with  island  groves, 

And  hedged  them  round  with  forests.  Fitting  floor 
For  this  magnificent  temple  of  the  sky — 

With  flowers  whose  glory  and  whose  multitude 
Rival  the  constellations ! The  great  heavens 
Seem  to  stoop  down  upon  the  scene  in  love — 

A nearer  vault,  and  of  a tenderer  blue, 

Than  that  which  bends  above  our  Eastern  hills. 

As  o’er  the  verdant  waste  I guide  my  steed, 

Among  the  high  rank  grass  that  sweeps  his  sides, 

The  hollow  beating  of  his  footstep  seems 
A sacrilegious  sound.  I think  of  those 
Upon  whose  rest  he  tramples.  Are  they  here — 

The  dead  of  other  days  ? And  did  the  dust 
Of  these  fair  solitudes  once  stir  with  life 
And  burn  with  passion  ? Let  the  mighty  mounds 
That  overlook  the  rivers,  or  that  rise 
In  the  dim  forest  crowded  with  old  oaks, 

Answer.  A race,  that  has  long  passed  away, 

Built  them : a disciplined  and  populous  race 
Heaped,  with  long  toil,  the  earth,  while  yet  the  Greek 
Was  hewing  the  Pentelicus  to  forms 
Of  symmetry,  and  rearing  on  its  rock 
The  glittering  Parthenon.  These  ample  fields 
Nourished  their  harvests,  here  their  herds  were  fed, 
When  haply  by  their  stalls  the  bison  lowed 
And  bowed  his  maned  shoulder  to  the  yoke. 

All  day  this  desert  murmured  with  their  toils, 

Till  twilight  blushed,  and  lovers  walked,  and  wooed 
In  a forgotten  language,  and  old  tunes, 

From  instruments  of  unremembered  form, 

Gave  the  soft  winds  a voice.  The  red  man  came, 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT. 


213 


The  roaming  hunter-tribes,  warlike  and  fierce, 

And  the  mound-builders  vanished  from  the  earth. 

The  solitude  of  centuries  untold 
Has  settled  were  they  dwelt.  The  prairie-wolf 
Hunts  in  their  meadows,  and  his  fresh-dug  den 
Yawns  by  my  path.  The  gopher  mines  the  ground 
Where  stood  their  swarming  cities.  All  is  gone — 

All  save  the  piles  of  earth  that  hold  their  bones, 

The  platforms  where  they  worshipped  unknown  gods, 
The  barriers  which  they  builded  from  the  soil 
To  keep  the  foe  at  bay,  till  o’er  the  walls 
The  wild  beleaguerers  broke,  and,  one  by  one, 

The  strongholds  of  the  plain  were  forced,  and  heaped 
With  corpses.  The  brown  vultures  of  the  wood 
Flocked  to  those  vast  uncovered  sepulchres, 

And  sat  unscared  and  silent  at  their  feast. 

Haply  some  solitary  fugitive, 

Lurking  in  marsh  and  forest,  till  the  sense 
Of  desolation  and  of  fear  became 
Bitterer  than  death,  yielded  himself  to  die. 

Man’s  better  nature  triumphed  then.  Kind  words 
Welcomed  and  soothed  him;  the  rude  conquerors 
Seated  the  captive  with  their  chiefs  ; he  chose 
A bride  among  their  maidens,  and  at  length 
Seemed  to  forget — yet  ne’er  forgot — the  wife 
Of  his  first  love  and  her  sweet  little  ones, 

Butchered,  amid  their  shrieks,  with  all  his  race. 

Thus  change  the  forms  of  being.  Thus  arise 
Races  of  living  things,  glorious  in  strength, 

And  perish  as  the  quickening  breath  of  God 
Fills  them  or  is  withdrawn.  The  red  man,  too, 

Has  left  the  blooming  wilds  he  ranged  so  long, 

And  nearer  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  sought 
A wilder  hunting-ground.  The  beaver  builds 
No  longer  by  these  streams,  but  far  away, 


214 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


On  waters  whose  blue  surface  ne’er  gave  back 
The  white  man’s  face — among  Missouri’s  springs 
And  pools  whose  issues  swell  the  Oregon — 

He  rears  his  little  Venice.  In  these  plains 
The  bison  feeds  no  more.  Twice  twenty  leagues 
Beyond  remotest  smoke  of  hunter’s  camp 
Roams  the  majestic  brute,  in  herds  that  shake 
The  earth  with  thundering  steps ; yet  here  I meet 
His  ancient  footprints  stamped  beside  the  pool. 

Still,  this  great  solitude  is  quick  with  life. 

Myriads  of  insects,  gaudy  as  the  flowers 

They  flutter  over,  gentle  quadrupeds 

And  birds  that  scarce  have  learned  the  fear  of  man, 

Are  here,  and  sliding  reptiles  of  the  ground, 

Startlingly  beautiful.  The  graceful  deer 

Bounds  to  the  wood  at  my  approach.  The  bee, 

A more  adventurous  colonist  than  man, 

With  whom  he  came  across  the  Eastern  deep, 

Fills  the  savannas  with  his  murmurings, 

And  hides  his  sweets,  as  in  the  golden  age, 

Within  the  hollow  oak.  I listen  long 

To  his  domestic  hum,  and  think  I hear 

The  sound  of  that  advancing  multitude 

Which  soon  shall  fill  these  deserts.  From  the  ground 

Come  up  the  laugh  of  children,  the  soft  voice 

Of  maidens,  and  the  sweet  and  solemn  hymn 

Of  Sabbath  worshippers.  The  low  of  herds 

Blends  with  the  rustling  of  the  heavy  grain 

Over  the  dark-brown  furrows.  All  at  once 

A fresher  wind  sweeps  by,  and  breaks  my  dream, 

And  I am  in  the  wilderness  alone. 


DANIEL  WEBSTER. . 


215 


DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

The  Veterans  of  Bunker  Hill. 

[From  the  oration  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  Bunker  Hill 

Monument.] 

Venerable  men  : You  have  come  down  to  us  from  a 
former  generation.  Heaven  has  bounteously  lengthened 
out  your  lives  that  you  might  behold  this  joyous  day. 
You  are  now  where  you  stood  fifty  years  ago  this  very 
hour,  with  your  brothers  and  your  neighbors,  shoulder  to 
shoulder  in  the  strife  of  your  country.  Behold  how  al- 
tered! The  same  heavens  are  indeed  over  your  heads, 
the  same  ocean  rolls  at  your  feet;  but  all  else  how 
changed!  You  hear  now  no  roar  of  hostile  cannon;  you 
see  no  mixed  volumes  of  smoke  and  flame  rising  from 
burning  Charlestown.  The  ground  strewed  with  the  dead 
and  the  dying;  the  impetuous  charge;  the  steady  and  suc- 
cessful repulse;  the  loud  call  to  repeated  assault;  the  sum- 
moning of  all  that  is  manly  to  repeated  resistance ; a thou- 
sand bosoms  freely  and  fearlessly  bared  in  an  instant  to 
whatever  of  terror  there  may  be  in  war  and  death, — all 
these  you  have  witnessed,  but  you  witness  them  no  more. 
All  is  peace.  The  heights  of  yonder  metropolis,  its  towers 
and  roofs,  which  you  then  saw  filled  with  wives  and  chil- 
dren and  countrymen  in  distress  and  terror,  and  looking 
with  unutterable  emotions  for  the  issue  of  the  combat, 
have  presented  you  to-day  with  the  sight  of  its  whole 
happy  population  come  out  to  welcome  and  greet  you 
with  a universal  jubilee.  Yonder  proud  ships,  by  a feli- 
city of  position  appropriately  lying  at  the  foot  of  this 
mount,  and  seeming  fondly  to  cling  around  it,  are  not 
means  of  annoyance  to  you,  but  your  country’s  own 
means  of  distinction  and  defence.  All  is  peace,  and 
God  has  granted  you  this  sight  of  your  country’s  hap- 


216 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


piness  ere  you  slumber  in  the  grave  for  ever.  He  has 
allowed  you  to  behold  and  to  partake  the  reward  of  your 
patriotic  toils,  and  he  has  allowed  us,  your  sons  and  coun- 
trymen, to  meet  you  here,  and  in  the  name  of  the  present 
generation,  in  the  name  of  your  country,  in  the  name  of 
liberty,  to  thank  you. 

But,  alas ! you  are  not  all  here.  Time  and  the  sword 
have  thinned  your  ranks.  Prescott,  Putnam,  Stark,  Brooks, 
Read,  Pomeroy,  Bridge!  our  eyes  seek  for  you  in  vain 
amidst  this  broken  band.  You  are  gathered  to  your 
fathers,,  and  live  only  to  your  country  in  her  grateful 
remembrance  and  your  own  bright  example.  But  let  us 
not  too  much  grieve  that  you  have  met  the  common  fate 
of  men.  You  lived  at  least  long  enough  to  know  that 
your  work  had  been  nobly  and  successfully  accomplished. 
You  lived  to  see  your  country’s  independence  established 
and  to  sheathe  your  swords  from  war.  On  the  light  of 
liberty  you  saw  arise  the  light  of  peace,  like 

" another  morn, 

Risen  on  mid-noon,” 

and  the  sky  on  which  you  closed  your  eyes  was  cloudless. 

But,  ah ! him,  the  first  great  martyr  in  this  great  cause ; 
him,  the  premature  victim  of  his  own  self-devoting  heart ; 
him,  the  head  of  our  civil  councils  and  the  destined  leader 
of  our  military  bands ; whom  nothing  brought  hither  but 
the  unquenchable  fire  of  his  own  spirit ; him,  cut  off  by 
Providence  in  the  hour  of  overwhelming  anxiety  and 
thick  gloom ; falling  ere  he  saw  the  star  of  his  country 
rise ; pouring  out  his  generous  blood  like  water  before  he 
knew  whether  it  would  fertilize  a land  of  freedom  or  of 
bondage ! How  shall  I struggle  with  the  emotions  that 
stifle  the  utterance  of  thy  name?  Our  poor  work  may 
perish,  but  thine  shall  endure.  This  monument  may 
moulder  away ; the  solid  ground  it  rests  upon  may  sink 


217 


DANIEL  WEBSTER. 

down  to  a level  with  the  sea ; but  thy  memory  shall  not 
fail.  Wheresoever  among  men  a heart  shall  be  found  that 
beats  to  the  transports  of  patriotism  and  liberty,  its  aspira- 
tions shall  be  to  claim  kindred  with  thy  spirit. 

South  Carolina  and  Massachusetts. 

[From  the  Reply  to  Hayne. ] 

I shall  not  acknowledge  that  the  honorable  member 
goes  before  me  in  regard  for  whatever  of  distinguished 
talent  or  distinguished  character  South  Carolina  has  pro- 
duced. I claim  part  of  the  honor,  I partake  in  the  pride, 
of  her  great  names.  1 claim  them  for  my  countrymen, 
one  and  all,  the  Laurenses,  the  Rutledges,  the  Pinckneys, 
the  Sumpters,  the  Marions — Americans  all,  whose  fame  is 
no  more  to  be  hemmed  in  by  State  lines  than  their  talents 
and  patriotism  were  capable  of  being  circumscribed  within 
the  same  narrow  limits.  In  their  day  and  generation  they 
served  and  honored  the  country,  and  the  whole  country ; 
and  their  renown  is  of  the  treasures  of  the  whole  country. 
Him  whose  honored  name  the  gentleman  himself  bears, — 
does  he  esteem  me  less  capable  of  gratitude  for  his  patriot- 
ism or  sympathy  for  his  sufferings  than  if  his  eyes  had 
first  opened  upon  the  light  of  Massachusetts  instead  of 
South  Carolina  ? Sir,  does  he  suppose  it  in  his  power  to 
exhibit  a Carolina  name  so  bright  as  to  produce  envy  in 
my  bosom  ? No,  sir ; increased  gratification  and  delight, 
rather.  I thank  God  that  if  I am  gifted  with  little  of  the 
spirit  which  is  able  to  raise  mortals  to  the  skies,  I have 
yet  none,  as  I trust,  of  that  other  spirit  which  would  drag 
angels  down.  When  I shall  be  found,  sir,  in  my  place 
here  in  the  Senate  or  elsewhere  to  sneer  at  public  merit 
because  it  happens  to  spring  up  beyond  the  little  limits 
of  my  own  State  or  neighborhood ; when  I refuse,  for  any 
such  cause  or  for  any  cause,  the  homage  due  to  American 


218 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


talent,  to  elevated  patriotism,  to  sincere  devotion  to  liberty 
and  the  country;  or  if  I see  an  uncommon  endowment  of 
heaven,  if  I see  extraordinary  capacity  and  virtue,  in  any 
son  of  the  South,  and  if,  moved  by  local  prejudices  or  gan- 
grened by  State  jealousy,  I get  up  here  to  abate  the  tithe 
of  a hair  from  his  just  character  and  just  fame, — may  my 
tongue  cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth ! 

Sir,  let  me  recur  to  pleasing  recollections ; let  me  indulge 
in  refreshing  remembrances  of  the  past ; let  me  remind  you 
that,  in  early  times,  no  States  cherished  greater  harmony, 
both  of  principle  and  feeling,  than  Massachusetts  and  South 
Carolina.  Would  to  God  that  harmony  might  again  return ! 
Shoulder  to  shoulder  they  went  through  the  Revolution, 
hand  in  hand  they  stood  round  the  administration  of  Wash- 
ington and  felt  his  own  great  arm  lean  on  them  for  support. 
Unkind  feeling,  if  it  exist,  alienation  and  distrust,  are  the 
growth,  unnatural  to  such  soils,  of  false  principles  since 
sown.  They  are  weeds,  the  seeds  of  which  the  same  great 
arm  never  scattered. 

Mr.  President,  I shall  enter  upon  no  encomium  of  Mas- 
sachusetts ; she  needs  none.  There  she  is ! Behold  her, 
and  judge  for  yourselves.  There  is  her  history ; the  world 
knows  it  by  heart.  The  past,  at  least,  is  secure.  There  is 
Boston  and  Concord  and  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill,  and 
there  they  will  remain  for  ever.  The  bones  of  her  sons, 
falling  in  the  great  struggle  for  Independence,  now  lie 
mingled  with  the  soil  of  every  State  from  New  England 
to  Georgia,  and  there  they  will  lie  for  ever.  And,  sir, 
where  American  Liberty  raised  its  first  voice,  and  where 
its  youth  was  nurtured  and  sustained,  there  it  still  lives 
in  the  strength  of  its  manhood  and  full  of  its  original 
spirit.  If  discord  and  disunion  shall  wound  it,  if  party 
strife  and  blind  ambition  shall  hawk  at  and  tear  it,  if  folly 
and  madness,  if  uneasiness  under  salutary  and  necessary 
restraint,  shall  succeed  in  separating  it  from  that  Union  by 
which  alone  its  existence  is  made  sure,  it  will  stand,  in  the 


IJANIEL  WEBSTER. 


219 


end,  by  the  side  of  that  cradle  in  which  its  infancy  was 
rocked ; it  will  stretch  forth  its  arm  with  whatever  of  vigor 
it  may  still  retain  over  the  friends  wrho  gather  round  it; 
and  it  will  fall  at  last,  if  fall  it  must,  amidst  the  profound- 
est  monuments  of  its  own  glory  and  on  the  very  spot  of 
its  origin. 


The  Union. 

[From  the  peroration  of  the  Reply  to  Hayne.~\ 

I have  not  allowed  myself,  sir,  to  look  beyond  the 
Union,  to  see  what  might  lie  hidden  in  the  dark  recess 
behind.  I have  not  coolly  weighed  the  chances  of  pre- 
serving liberty  when  the  bonds  that  unite  us  together 
shall  be  broken  asunder.  I have  not  accustomed  myself 
to  hang  over  the  precipice  of  disunion,  to  see  whether, 
with  my  short  sight,  I can  fathom  the  depth  of  the 
abyss  below;  nor  could  I regard  him  as  a safe  coun- 
sellor in  the  affairs  of  this  Government  whose  thoughts 
should  be  mainly  bent  on  considering,  not  how  the  Union 
may  be  best  preserved,  but  how  tolerable  might  be  the 
condition  of  the  people  when  it  should  be  broken  up  and 
destroyed.  While  the  Union  lasts  wre  have  high,  exciting, 
gratifying  prospects  spread  out  before  us,  for  us  and  our 
children.  Beyond  that  I seek  not  to  penetrate  the  veil. 
God  grant  that  in  my  day,  at  least,  that  curtain  may  not 
rise ! God  grant  that  on  my  vision  never  may  be  opened 
what  lies  behind ! When  my  eyes  shall  be  turned  to  behold 
for  the  last  time  the  sun  in  heaven,  may  I not  see  him 
shining  on  the  broken  and  dishonored  fragments  of  a once- 
glorious  Union ; on  States  dissevered,  discordant,  belliger- 
ent; on  a land  rent  with  civil  feuds  or  drenched,  it  may 
be,  in  fraternal  blood ! Let  their  last  feeble  and  lingering 
glance  rather  behold  the  gorgeous  ensign  of  the  republic, 
now  known  and  honored  throughout  the  earth,  still  full 
high  advanced,  its  arms  and  trophies  streaming  in  their 


220 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


original  lustre,  not  a stripe  erased  or  polluted  nor  a single 
star  obscured,  bearing  for  its  motto  no  such  miserable  in- 
terrogatory as,  “ What  is  all  this  worth  ?”  nor  those  other 
words  of  delusion  and  folly,  “Liberty  first,  and  Union 
afterward  •”  but  everywhere,  spread  all  over  in  characters 
of  living  light,  blazing  on  all  its  ample  folds,  and  as  they 
float  over  the  sea  and  over  the  land  and  in  every  wind 
under  the  whole  heavens,  that  other  sentiment,  dear  to 
every  true  American  heart — Liberty  and  Union,  now  and 
for  ever,  one  and  inseparable ! 


EDWARD  EVERETT. 

The  Battle  of  Lexington. 

[From  a Fourth-of-July  Oration  at  Dorchester,  Mass.,  1855.] 

On  the  10th  of  April  the  all-important  blow  was  struck — 
the  blow  which  severed  the  fated  chain  whose  every  link  was 
bolted  by  an  act  of  Parliament,  whose  every  rivet  was  closed 
up  by  an  order  in  council — which  bound  to  the  wake  of 
Europe  the  brave  bark  of  our  youthful  fortune,  destined 
henceforth  and  for  ever  to  ride  the  waves  alone — the  blow 
which  severed  that  fated  chain  was  struck.  The  blow  was 
struck  which  will  be  felt  in  its  consequences  to  ourselves 
and  the  family  of  nations  till  the  seventh  seal  is  broken 
from  the  apocalyptic  volume  of  the  history  of  empires. 
The  consummation  of  four  centuries  was  completed.  The 
lifelong  hopes  and  heartsick  visions  of  Columbus — poorly 
fulfilled  in  the  subjugation  of  the  plumed  tribes  of  a few 
tropical  islands  and  the  partial  survey  of  the  continent, 
cruelly  mocked  by  the  fetters  placed  upon  his  noble 
limbs  by  his  own  menial,  and  which  he  carried  with 
him  into  his  grave, — were  at  length  more  than  fulfilled 
when  the  New  World  of  his  discovery  put  on  the  sov- 


EDWARD  EVERETT, 


221 


ereign  robes  of  her  separate  national  existence,  and 
joined,  for  peace  and  for  war,  the  great  Panathenaic 
procession  of  the  nations.  The  wrongs  of  generations 
were  redressed.  The  cup  of  humiliation,  drained  to  the 
dregs  by  the  old  Puritan  confessors  and  Nonconformist 
victims  of  oppression, — loathsome  prisons,  blasted  for- 
tunes, lips  forbidden  to  open  in  prayer,  earth  and  water 
denied  in  their  pleasant  native  land,  the  separations  and 
sorrows  of  exile,  the  sounding  perils  of  the  ocean;  the 
scented  hedgerows  and  vocal  thickets  of  the  u old  coun- 
tree ” exchanged  for  a pathless  wilderness  ringing  with  the 
war-whoop  and  gleaming  with  the  scalping-knife;  the  sec- 
ular insolence  of  colonial  rule  checked  by  no  periodical 
recurrence  to  the  public  will;  governors  appointed  on  the 
other  side  of  the  globe  that  knew  not  Joseph  ; the  patron- 
izing disdain  of  undelegated  power;  the  legal  contumely 
of  foreign  law,  wanting  the  first  element  of  obligation,  the 
consent  of  the  governed  expressed  by  his  authorized  rep- 
resentative ; and  at  length  the  last  unutterable  and  burn- 
ing affront  and  shame,  a mercenary  soldiery  encamped 
upon  the  fair  eminences  of  our  cities,  ships  of  war  with 
springs  on  their  cables  moored  in  front  of  our  crowded 
quays,  artillery  planted  open-mouthed  in  our  principal 
streets,  at  the  doors  of  our  houses  of  assembly,  their 
morning  and  evening  salvos  proclaiming  to  the  rising 
and  the  setting  sun  that  we  are  the  subjects  and  they 
the  lords, — all  these  hideous  phantoms  of  the  long  colo- 
nial night  swept  off  by  the  first  sharp  volley  on  Lex- 
ington Green. 


222 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


RUFUS  CHOATE. 

Webster  as  a Statesman. 

[From  the  Eulogy  on  Daniel  Webster.'] 

Consider  the  work  he  did  in  that  life  of  forty  years — 
the  range  of  subjects  investigated  and  discussed,  com- 
posing the  whole  theory  and  practice  of  our  organic  and 
administrative  politics,  foreign  and  domestic;  the  vast 
body  of  instructive  thought  he  produced  and  put  in 
possession  of  the  country;  how  much  he  achieved  in 
Congress,  as  well  as  at  the  bar,  to  fix  the  true  inter- 
pretation, as  well  as  to  impress  the  transcendent  value, 
of  the  Constitution  itself — as  much  altogether  as  any  jurist 
or  statesman  since  its  adoption ; how  much  to  establish  in 
the  general  mind  the  great  doctrine  that  the  Government 
of  the  United  States  is  a government  proper,  established 
by  the  people  of  the  States,  not  a compact  between  sov- 
ereign communities — that  within  its  limits  it  is  supreme, 
and  that  whether  it  is  within  its  limits  or  not,  in  any  given 
exertion  of  itself,  is  to  be  determined  by  the  Supreme  Court 
of  the  United  States — the  ultimate  arbiter  in  the  last  resort 
— from  which  there  is  no  appeal  but  to  revolution ; how 
much  he  did  in  the  course  of  the  discussions  which  grew 
out  of  the  proposed  mission  to  Panama,  and,  at  a later 
day,  out  of  the  removal  of  the  deposits,  to  place  the  exec- 
utive department  of  the  Government  on  its  true  basis  and 
under  its  true  limitations ; to  secure  to  that  department  all 
its  just  powers  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  hand  to 
vindicate  to  the  legislative  department,  and  especially  to 
the  Senate,  all  that  belong  to  them ; to  arrest  the  tend- 
encies which  he  thought  at  one  time  threatened  to  sub- 
stitute the  government  of  a single  will,  of  a single  person 
of  great  force  of  character  and  boundless  popularity,  and 
of  a numerical  majority  of  the  people,  told  by  the  head, 


RUFUS  CHOATE. 


223 


without  intermediate  institutions  of  any  kind,  judicial  or 
senatorial,  in  place  of  the  elaborate  system  of  checks  and 
balances  by  which  the  Constitution  aimed  at  a govern- 
ment of  laws  and  not  of  men ; how  much,  attracting  less 
popular  attention,  but  scarcely  less  important,  to  complete 
the  great  work  which  experience  had  shown  to  be  left  un- 
finished by  the  Judiciary  Act  of  1789  by  providing  for  the 
punishment  of  all  crimes  against  the  United  States;  how 
much  for  securing  a safe  currency  and  a true  financial  sys- 
tem, not  only  by  the  promulgation  of  sound  opinions,  but 
by  good  specific  measures  adopted  or  bad  ones  defeated; 
how  much  to  develop  the  vast  material  resources  of  the 
country,  and  to  push  forward  the  planting  of  the  West — 
not  troubled  by  any  fear  of  exhausting  old  States — by  a 
liberal  policy  of  public  lands ; by  vindicating  the  consti- 
tutional power  of  Congress  to  make  or  aid  in  making  large 
classes  of  internal  improvements,  and  by  acting  on  that 
doctrine  uniformly  from  1813,  whenever  a road  was  to  be 
built  or  a rapid  suppressed  or  a canal  to  be  opened  or  a 
breakwater  or  a lighthouse  set  up  above  or  below  the  flow 
of  the  tide,  if  so  far  beyond  the  ability  of  a single  State, 
or  of  so  wide  utility  to  commerce  and  labor,  as  to  rise  to 
the  rank  of  a work  general  in  its  influences — another  tie 
of  union  because  another  proof  of  the  beneficence  of 
union;  how  much  to  protect  the  vast  mechanical  and 
manufacturing  interests  of  the  country — a value  of  many 
hundreds  of  millions,  after  having  been  lured  into  exist- 
ence against  his  counsels,  against  his  science  of  political 
economy,  by  a policy  of  artificial  encouragement — from 
being  sacrificed,  and  the  pursuits  and  plans  of  large 
regions  and  communities  broken  up,  and  the  acquired 
skill  of  the  country  squandered  by  a sudden  and  capri- 
cious withdrawal  of  the  promise  of  the  Government ; how 
much  for  the  right  performance  of  the  most  delicate  and 
difficult  of  all  tasks,  the  ordering  of  the  foreign  affairs  of  a 
nation,  free,  sensitive,  self-conscious,  recognizing,  it  is  true, 


224 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


public  law  and  a morality  of  the  State,  yet  aspiring  to 
power,  eminence,  and  command,  its  whole  frame  filled 
full  and  all  on  fire  with  American  feeling,  sympathetic 
with  liberty  everywhere;  how  much  for  the  right  order- 
ing of  the  foreign  affairs  of  such  a State,  aiming,  in  all  his 
policy,  from  his  speech  on  the  Greek  question  in  1823  to 
his  letters  to  M.  Hulsemann  in  1850,  to  occupy  the  high, 
plain,  yet  dizzy  ground  which  separates  influence  from 
intervention,  to  avow  and  promulgate  warm  good-will  to 
humanity  wherever  striving  to  be  free,  to  inquire  authen- 
tically into  the  history  of  its  struggles,  to  take  official  and 
avowed  pains  to  ascertain  the  moment  when  its  success 
may  be  recognized,  consistently,  ever,  with  the  great  code 
that  keeps  the  peace  of  the  world,  abstaining  from  every- 
thing that  shall  give  any  nation  a right  under  the  law  of 
nations  to  utter  one  word  of  complaint,  still  less  to  retal- 
iate by  war, — the  sympathy,  but  also  the  neutrality  of 
Washington;  how  much  to  compose  with  honor  a con- 
currence of  difficulties  with  the  first  power  in  the  world, 
which  anjdhing  less  than  the  highest  degree  of  discretion, 
firmness,  ability,  and  means  of  commanding  respect  and 
confidence  at  home  and  abroad  would  inevitably  have 
conducted  to  the  last  calamity — a disputed  boundary- 
line of  many  hundred  miles  from  the  St.  Croix  to  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  which  divided  an  exasperated  and 
impracticable  border  population,  enlisted  the  pride  and 
affected  the  interests  and  controlled  the  politics  of  par- 
ticular States,  as  well  as  pressed  on  the  peace  and  honor 
of  the  nation,  which  the  most  popular  administrations  of 
the  era  of  the  quietest  and  best  public  feelings,  the  times 
of  Monroe  and  of  Jackson,  could  not  adjust;  which  had 
grown  so  complicated  with  other  topics  of  excitement  that 
one  false  step,  right  or  left,  would  have  been  a step  down 
a precipice — this  line  settled  for  ever,  the  claim  of  Eng- 
land to  search  our  ships  for  the  suppression  of  the  slave- 
trade  silenced  for  ever,  and  a new  engagement  entered  into 


RUFUS  CHOATE. 


225 


by  treaty  binding  the  national  faith  to  contribute  a spe- 
cific naval  force  for  putting  an  end  to  the  great  crime  of 
man — the  long  practice  of  England  to  enter  an  American 
ship  and  impress  from  its  crew  terminated  for  ever;  the 
deck  henceforth  guarded  sacredly  and  completely  by  the 
flag;  how  much  by  profound  discernment,  by  eloquent 
speech,  by  devoted  life,  to  strengthen  the  ties  of  Union 
and  breathe  the  fire  and  strong  spirit  of  nationality 
through  all  our  numbers;  how  much,  most  of  all,  last 
of  all,  after  the  war  with  Mexico,  needless  if  his  coun- 
sels had  governed,  had  ended  in  so  vast  an  acquisition  of 
territory,  in  presenting  to  the  two  great  antagonistic  sec- 
tions of  our  country  so  vast  an  era  to  enter  on,  so  imperial 
a prize  to  contend  for,  and  the  accursed  fraternal  strife  had 
begun ; how  much,  then,  when  rising  to  the  measure  of  a 
true  and  difficult  and  rare  greatness,  remembering  that  he 
had  a country  to  save  as  well  as  a local  constituency  to 
gratify,  laying  all  the  wealth,  all  the  hopes,  of  an  illustri- 
ous life  on  the  altar  of  a hazardous  patriotism,  he  sought 
and  won  the  more  exceeding  glory  which  now  attends — 
which  in  the  next  age  shall  more  conspicuously  attend — 
his  name  who  composes  an  agitated  and  saves  a sinking 
land.  Recall  this  series  of  conduct  and  influences,  study 
them  carefullv  in  their  facts  and  results — the  reading  of 
years — and  you  attain  to  a true  appreciation  of  this  aspect 
of  his  greatness — his  public  character  and  life. 

16 


22(3 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


WILLIAM  ELLERY  CHANNING. 
Original  American  Literature. 

[From  Remarks  on  National  Literature .] 

We  next  observe — and  we  think  the  observation  import- 
ant— that  the  facility  with  which  we  receive  the  literature 
of  foreign  countries,  instead  of  being  a reason  for  neglect- 
ing our  own,  is  a strong  motive  for  its  cultivation.  We 
mean  not  to  be  paradoxical,  but  we  believe  that  it  would 
be  better  to  admit  no  books  from  abroad  than  to  make 
them  substitutes  for  our  own  intellectual  activity.  The 
more  we  receive  from  other  countries,  the  greater  the  need 
of  an  original  literature.  A people  into  whose  minds  the 
thoughts  of  foreigners  are  poured  perpetually  needs  an 
energy  within  itself  to  resist,  to  modify,  this  mighty  influ- 
ence, and  without  it  will  inevitably  sink  under  the  worst 
bondage — will  become  intellectually  tame  and  enslaved. 
We  have  certainly  no  desire  to  complete  our  restrictive 
system  by  adding  to  it  a literary  non-intercourse  law. 
We  rejoice  in  the  increasing  intellectual  connection  be- 
tween this  country  and  the  Old  World.  But  sooner 
would  we  rupture  it  than  see  our  country  sitting  pas- 
sively at  the  feet  of  foreign  teachers.  It  were  better  to 
have  no  literature  than  form  ourselves  unresistingly  on 
a foreign  one.  The  true  sovereigns  of  a country  are  those 
who  determine  its  mind,  its  mode  of  thinking,  its  tastes, 
its  principles ; and  we  cannot  consent  to  lodge  this  sove- 
reignty in  the  hands  of  strangers.  A country,  like  an 
individual,  has  dignity  and  power  only  in  proportion  as 
it  is  self-formed.  There  is  a great  stir  to  secure  to  our- 
selves the  manufacturing  of  our  own  clothing.  We  say, 
Let  others  spin  and  weave  for  us,  but  let  them  not  think 
for  us.  A people  whose  government  and  laws  are  noth- 
ing but  the  embodying  of  public  opinion  should  jealously 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


227 


guard  this  opinion  against  foreign  dictation.  We  need  a 
literature  to  counteract,  and  to  use  wisely,  the  literature 
which  we  import.  We  need  an  inward  power  proportion- 
ate to  that  which  is  exerted  on  us  as  the  means  of  self- 
subsistence. It  is  particularly  true  of  a people  whose 
institutions  demand  for  their  support  a free  and  bold 
spirit  that  they  should  be  able  to  subject  to  a manly 
and  independent  criticism  whatever  comes  from  abroad. 
These  views  seem  to  us  to  deserve  serious  attention.  We 
are  more  and  more  a reading  people.  Books  are  already 
among  the  most  powerful  influences  here.  The  question 
is,  Shall  Europe,  through  these,  fashion  us  after  its  pleas- 
ure ? Shall  America  be  only  an  echo  of  what  is  thought  and 
written  under  the  aristocracies  beyond  the  ocean? 

Another  view  of  the  subject  is  this : A foreign  literature 
will  always,  in  a measure,  be  foreign.  It  has  sprung  from 
the  soul  of  another  people,  which,  however  like,  is  still  not 
our  own  soul.  Every  people  has  much  in  its  own  charac- 
ter and  feelings  which  can  only  be  embodied  by  its  own 
writers,  and  which,  when  transfused  through  literature, 
makes  it  touching  and  true,  like  the  voice  of  our  earliest 
friend. 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 

Nature. 

To  go  into  solitude  a man  needs  to  retire  as  much  from 
his  chamber  as  from  society.  I am  not  solitary  whilst  I 
read  and  write,  though  nobody  is  with  me.  But  if  a man 
would  be  alone,  let  him  look  at  the  stars.  The  rays  that 
come  from  those  heavenly  worlds  will  separate  between 
him  and  vulgar  things.  One  might  think  the  atmosphere 
was  made  transparent  with  this  design,  to  give  man,  in 


228 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  heavenly  bodies,  the  perpetual  presence  of  the  sublime. 
Seen  in  the  streets  of  cities,  how  great  they  are ! 

If  the  stars  should  appear  one  night  in  a thousand 
years,  how  would  men  believe  and  adore  and  preserve 
for  many  generations  the  remembrance  of  the  city  of 
God  which  had  been  shown ! But  every  night  come  out 
these  preachers  of  beauty  and  light  the  universe  with  their 
admonishing  smile. 

The  stars  awaken  a certain  reverence,  because,  though 
always  present,  they  are  always  inaccessible ; but  all  nat- 
ural objects  make  kindred  impression  when  the  mind  is 
open  to  their  influence.  Nature  never  wears  a mean  ap- 
pearance. Neither  does  the  wisest  man  extort  all  her 
secrets  and  lose  his  curiosity  by  finding  out  all  her  per- 
fection. Nature  never  became  a toy  to  a wise  spirit.  The 
flowers,  the  animals,  the  mountains  reflected  all  the  wis- 
dom of  his  best  hour  as  much  as  they  had  delighted  the 
simplicity  of  his  childhood. 

When  we  speak  of  Nature  in  this  manner,  we  have  a 
distinct  but  most  poetical  sense  in  the  mind.  We  mean 
the  integrity  of  impression  made  by  manifold  Nature 
objects.  It  is  this  which  distinguishes  the  stick  of  tim- 
ber of  the  wood-cutter  from  the  tree  of  the  poet.  The 
charming  landscape  which  I saw  this  morning  is  indubi- 
tably made  up  of  some  twenty  or  thirty  farms.  Miller 
owns  this  field,  Locke  that,  and  Manning  the  woodland 
beyond.  But  none  of  them  owns  the  landscape.  There 
is  a property  in  the  horizon  which  no  man  has  but  he 
whose  eye  can  integrate  all  the  parts — that  is,  the  poet. 
This  is  the  best  part  of  these  men’s  farms,  yet  to  this  their 
land-deeds  give  them  no  title. 

To  speak  truly,  few  adult  persons  can  see  Nature.  Most 
persons  do  not  see  the  sun.  At  least  they  have  a very  super- 
ficial seeing.  The  sun  illuminates  only  the  eye  of  the  man, 
but  shines  into  the  eye  and  the  heart  of  the  child.  The 
lover  of  Nature  is  he  whose  inward  and  outward  senses 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


229 


are  still  truly  adjusted  to  each  other — who  has  retained 
the  spirit  of  infancy  even  into  the  era  of  manhood.  His 
intercourse  with  heaven  and  earth  becomes  part  of  his 
daily  food.  In  the  presence  of  Nature  a wild  delight 
runs  through  the  man  in  spite  of  real  sorrows.  Nature 
says,  He  is  my  creature,  and,  maugre  all  his  impertinent 
griefs,  he  shall  be  glad  with  me.  Not  the  sun  or  the  sum- 
mer alone,  but  every  hour  and  season,  yields  its  tribute  of 
delight;  for  every  hour  and  change  corresponds  to  and 
authorizes  a different  state  of  the  mind,  from  breathless 
noon  to  grimmest  midnight.  Nature  is  a setting  that  fits 
equally  well  a comic  or  a mourning  piece.  In  good  health 
the  air  is  a cordial  of  incredible  virtue.  Crossing  a bare 
common  in  snow-puddles  at  twilight  under  a clouded  sky, 
without  having  in  my  thoughts  any  occurrence  of  special 
good-fortune,  I have  enjoyed  a perfect  exhilaration.  Al- 
most I fear  to  think  how  glad  I am.  In  the  woods,  too, 
a man  casts  off  his  years  as  the  snake  his  slough,  and  at 
what  period  soever  of  his  life  is  always  a child.  In  the 
woods  is  perpetual  youth.  Within  these  plantations  of 
God  a decorum  and  sanctity  reign,  a perennial  festival  is 
dressed,  and  the  guest  sees  not  how  he  should  tire  of  them 
in  a thousand  years.  In  the  woods  we  return  to  reason 
and  faith.  There  I feel  that  nothing  can  befall  me  in  life — 
no  disgrace,  no  calamity  (leaving  me  my  eyes) — which  Na- 
ture cannot  repair.  Standing  on  the  bare  ground,  my  head 
bathed  by  the  blithe  air  and  uplifted  into  infinite  space,  all 
mean  egotism  vanishes.  I become  a transparent  eyeball. 
I am  nothing.  I see  all.  The  currents  of  the  Universal 
Being  circulate  through  me ; I am  part  or  particle  of  God. 
The  name  of  the  nearest  friend  sounds  then  foreign  or  ac- 
cidental. To  be  brothers,  to  be  acquaintances,  master  or 
servant,  is  then  a trifle  and  a disturbance.  I am  the  lover 
of  uncontained  and  immortal  beauty.  In  the  wilderness  I 
find  something  more  dear  and  connate  than  in  streets  or 
villages.  In  the  tranquil  landscape,  and  especially  in  the 


230 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


distant  line  of  the  horizon,  man  beholds  somewhat  as  beau- 
tiful as  his  own  nature. 

The  greatest  delight  which  the  fields  and  woods  minis- 
ter is  the  suggestion  of  an  occult  relation  between  man 
and  the  vegetable.  I am  not  alone  and  unacknowledged. 
They  nod  to  me  and  I to  them.  The  waving  of  the  boughs 
in  the  storm  is  new  to  me  and  old. 

It  takes  me  by  surprise,  and  yet  is  not  unknown.  Its 
effect  is  like  that  of  a higher  thought  or  a better  emotion 
coming  over  me  when  I deemed  I was  thinking  justly  or 
doing  right. 

Yet  it  is  certain  that  the  power  to  produce  this  delight 
does  not  reside  in  Nature,  but  in  man  or  in  a harmony  of 
both.  It  is  necessary  to  use  these  pleasures  with  great 
temperance.  For  Nature  is  not  always  tricked  in  holiday 
attire,  but  the  same  scene  which  yesterday  breathed  per- 
fume and  glittered  as  for  the  frolic  of  the  nymphs  is  over- 
spread with  melancholy  to-day.  Nature  always  wears  the 
colors  of  the  spirit.  To  a man  laboring  under  calamity 
the  heat  of  his  own  fire  hath  sadness  in  it.  Then  there  is 
a kind  of  contempt  of  the  landscape  felt  by  him  who  has 
just  lost  by  death  a dear  friend.  The  sky  is  less  grand  as 
it  shuts  down  over  less  worth  in  the  population. 


Beauty. 

A nobler  want  of  man  is  served  by  Nature — namely, 
the  love  of  Beauty. 

The  ancient  Greeks  called  the  world  beauty. 

Such  is  the  constitution  of  all  things,  or  such  the  plastic 
power  of  the  human  eye,  that  the  primary  forms,  as  the 
sky,  the  mountain,  the  tree,  the  animal,  give  us  delight  in 
and  for  themselves — a pleasure  arising  from  outline,  color, 
motion,  and  grouping.  This  seems  partly  owing  to  the 
eye  itself.  The  eye  is  the  best  of  artists.  By  the  mutual 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


231 


action  of  its  structure  and  of  the  laws  of  light  perspective 
is  produced,  which  integrates  every  mass  of  objects,  of 
what  character  soever,  into  a well-colored  and  shaded 
globe,  so  that  where  the  particular  objects  are  mean  and 
unaffecting  the  landscape  which  they  compose  is  round 
and  symmetrical.  And  as  the  eye  is  the  best  composer,  so 
light  is  the  first  of  painters.  There  is  no  object  so  foul  that 
intense  light  will  not  make  beautiful.  And  the  stimulus 
it  affords  to  the  sense,  and  a sort  of  infinitude  which  it 
hath,  like  space  and  time,  make  all  matter  gay.  Even  the 
corpse  hath  its  own  beauty.  But  besides  this  general 
grace  diffused  over  Nature,  almost  all  the  individual  forms 
are  agreeable  to  the  eye,  as  is  proved  by  our  endless  imita- 
tions of  some  of  them,  as  the  acorn,  the  grape,  the  pine- 
cone,  the  wheat-ear,  the  egg,  the  wings  and  forms  of  most 
birds,  the  lion’s  claw,  the  serpent,  the  butterfly,  sea-shells, 
flames,  clouds,  buds,  leaves,  and  the  forms  of  many  trees, 
as  the  palm. 

For  better  consideration  we  may  distribute  the  aspects 
of  beauty  in  a threefold  manner : 

1.  First,  the  simple  perception  of  natural  forms  is  a de- 
light. The  influence  of  the  forms  and  actions  in  Nature  is 
so  needful  to  many  that,  in  its  lowest  functions,  it  seems 
to  lie  on  the  confines  of  commodity  and  beauty.  To  the 
body  and  mind  which  have  been  cramped  by  noxious 
work  or  company,  Nature  is  medicinal  and  restores  their 
tone.  The  tradesman,  the  attorney,  comes  out  of  the  din 
and  craft  of  the  street  and  sees  the  sky  and  the  woods,  and 
is  a man  again.  In  their  eternal  calm  he  finds  himself. 
The  health  of  the  eye  seems  to  demand  a horizon.  We  are 
never  tired  so  long  as  we  can  see  far  enough. 

But  in  other  hours  Nature  satisfies  the  soul  purely  by 
its  loveliness,  and  without  any  mixture  of  corporeal  bene- 
fit. I have  seen  the  spectacle  of  morning  from  the  hill- 
top over  against  my  house,  from  daybreak  to  sunrise,  with 
emotions  which  an  angel  might  share.  The  long  slender 


232 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


bars  of  cloud  float  like  fishes  in  the  sea  of  crimson  light. 
From  the  earth,  as  a shore,  I look  out  into  that  silent  sea. 
I seem  to  partake  its  rapid  transformations:  the  active 
enchantment  reaches  my  dust,  and  I dilate  and  conspire 
with  the  morning  wind.  How  does  Nature  deify  us  with 
a few  and  cheap  elements ! Give  health  and  a day,  and  1 
will  make  the  pomp  of  emperors  ridiculous. 

The  dawn  is  my  Assyria  ; the  sunset  and  moonrise  my 
Paphos  and  unimaginable  realms  of  faerie;  broad  noon 
shall  be  my  England  of  the  senses  and  the  understanding ; 
the  night  shall  be  my  Germany  of  mystic  philosophy  and 
dreams. 

Not  less  excellent,  except  for  our  less  susceptibility  in 
the  afternoon,  was  the  charm  last  evening  of  a January 
sunset. 

The  western  clouds  divided  and  subdivided  themselves 
into  pink  flakes  modulated  with  tints  of  unspeakable  soft- 
ness, and  the  air  had  so  much  life  and  sweetness  that  it 
w^as  a pain  to  come  within  doors.  What  was  it  that 
Nature  would  say?  Was  there  no  meaning  in  the  live 
repose  of  the  valley  behind  the  mill,  and  which  Homer  or 
Shakespeare  could  not  re-form  for  me  in  words?  The 
leafless  trees  become  spires  of  flame  in  the  sunset,  with 
the  blue  east  for  their  background,  and  the  stars  of  the 
dead  calices  of  flowers,  and  every  withered  stem  and 
stubble  rimed  with  frost  contribute  something  to  the 
mute  music. 

The  inhabitants  of  cities  suppose  that  the  country  land- 
scape is  pleasant  only  half  the  year.  I please  myself  with 
observing  the  graces  of  the  winter  scenery,  and  believe  that 
we  are  as  much  touched  by  it  as  by  the  genial  influences 
of  summer. 

To  the  attentive  eye  each  moment  of  the  year  has  its 
own  beauty,  and  in  the  same  field  it  beholds,  every  hour, 
a picture  which  was  never  seen  before  and  which  shall 
never  be  seen  again.  The  heavens  change  every  moment, 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


233 


and  reflect  their  glory  or  gloom  on  the  plains  beneath. 
The  state  of  the  crop  in  the  surrounding  farms  alters  the 
expression  of  the  earth  from  week  to  week.  The  succes- 
sion of  native  plants  in  the  pastures  and  roadsides,  which 
make  the  silent  clock  by  which  time  tells  the  summer 
hour,  will  make  even  the  divisions  of  the  day  sensible  to  a 
keen  observer. 

The  tribes  of  birds  and  insects,  like  the  plants  punctual 
to  their  time,  follow  each  other,  and  the  year  lias  room  for 
all.  By  water-courses  the  variety  is  greater.  In  July  the 
blue  pontederia  or  pickerel-weed  blooms  in  large  beds  in 
the  shallow  part  of  our  pleasant  river,  and  swarms  with 
yellow  butterflies  in  continual  motion.  Art  cannot  rival 
this  pomp  of  purple  and  gold.  Indeed,  the  river  is  a per- 
petual gala,  and  boasts  each  month  a new  ornament. 

But  this  beauty  of  Nature  which  is  seen  and  felt  as 
beauty  is  the  least  part.  The  shows  of  day — the  dewy 
morning,  the  rainbow  mountains,  orchards  in  blossom, 
stars,  moonlight,  shadows  in  still  water,  and  the  like — 
if  too  eagerly  hunted,  become  shows  merely  and  mock 
us  with  their  unreality.  Go  out  of  the  house  to  see  the 
moon,  and  ?tis  mere  tinsel ; it  will  not  please  as  when  its 
light  shines  upon  your  necessary  journey.  The  beauty 
that  shimmers  in  the  yellow  afternoons  of  October,  who 
ever  could  clutch  it?  Go  forth  to  find  it  and  it  is  gone; 
’tis  only  a mirage  as  you  look  from  the  windows  of 
diligence. 

2.  The  presence  of  a higher — namely,  of  the  spiritual — 
element  is  essential  to  its  perfection.  The  high  and  divine 
beauty  which  can  be  loved  without  effeminacy  is  that  which 
is  found  in  combination  with  the  human  will,  and  never 
separate.  Beauty  is  the  mark  God  sets  upon  virtue.  Every 
natural  action  is  graceful.  Every  heroic  act  is  also  decent, 
and  causes  the  place  and  the  bystanders  to  shine.  We  are 
taught  by  great  actions  that  the  universe  is  the  property  of 
every  individual  in  it.  Every  rational  creature  has  all 


234 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Nature  for  his  dowry  and  estate.  It  is  his  if  he  will.  He 
may  divest  himself  of  it ; lie  may  creep  into  a corner  and 
abdicate  his  kingdom,  as  most  men  do,  but  he  is  entitled 
to  the  world  by  his  constitution.  In  proportion  to  the 
energy  of  his  thought  and  will  he  takes  up  the  world  into 
himself.  “ All  those  things  for  which  men  plough,  build, 
or  sail,  obey  virtue,”  said  an  ancient  historian.  “ The 
winds  and  waves,”  said  Gibbon,  “ are  always  on  the  side 
of  the  ablest  navigators.”  So  are  the  sun  and  moon  and 
all  the  stars  of  heaven.  When  a noble  act  is  done,  per- 
chance in  a scene  of  great  natural  beauty ; when  Leonidas 
and  his  three  hundred  martyrs  consume  one  day  in  dying, 
and  the  sun  and  moon  come  each  and  look  at  them  once 
in  the  steep  defile  of  Thermopylae ; when  Arnold  Winck- 
elried  in  the  high  Alps,  under  the  shadow  of  the  ava- 
lanche, gathers  in  his  side  a sheaf  of  Austrian  spears  to 
break  the  line  for  his  comrades, — are  not  these  heroes 
entitled  to  add  the  beauty  of  the  scene  to  the  beauty 
of  the  deed?  When  the  bark  of  Columbus  nears  the 
shore  of  America,  before  it  the  beach  lined  with  savages 
fleeing  out  of  all  their  huts  of  cane,  the  sea  behind,  and 
the  purple  mountains  of  the  Indian  Archipelago  around, 
can  we  separate  the  man  from  the  living  picture  ? Does 
not  the  New  World  clothe  his  form  with  her  palm-groves 
and  savannas  as  fit  drapery?  Ever  does  natural  beauty 
steal  in  like  air  and  envelop  great  actions.  When  Sir 
Henry  Vane  was  dragged  up  the  Tower  Hill  sitting  on 
a sled  to  suffer  death  as  the  champion  of  the  English 
laws,  one  of  the  multitude  cried  out  to  him,  “ You  never 
sate  on  so  glorious  a seat.”  Charles  II.,  to  intimidate  the 
citizens  of  London,  caused  the  patriot  Lord  Russell  to  be 
drawn  in  an  open  coach  through  the  principal  streets  of 
the  city  on  his  way  to  the  scaffold.  “ But,”  to  use  the 
simple  narrative  of  his  biographer,  “ the  multitude  imag- 
ined they  saw  liberty  and  virtue  sitting  by  his  side.”  In 
private  places,  among  sordid  objects,  an  act  of  heroism 


RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON. 


235 


seems  at  once  to  draw  to  itself  the  sky  as  its  temple,  the 
sun  as  its  candle.  Nature  stretcheth  out  her  arms  to 
embrace  man,  only  let  his  thoughts  be  of  equal  great- 
ness. Willingly  does  she  follow  his  steps  with  the  rose 
and  the  violet,  and  bend  her  lines  of  grandeur  and  grace 
to  the  decoration  of  her  darling  child.  Only  let  his 
thoughts  be  of  equal  scope,  and  the  frame  will  suit  the 
picture. 

Hymn. 

[Sung  at  the  completion  of  the  Concord  Monument,  April  19,  1836.] 

By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood, 

Their  flag  to  April’s  breeze  unfurled, 

Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood, 

And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world. 

The  foe  long  since  in  silence  slept ; 

Alike  the  conqueror  silent  sleeps ; 

And  Time  the  ruined  bridge  has  swept 

Down  the  dark  stream  which  seaward  creeps. 

On  this  green  bank,  by  this  soft  stream, 

We  set  to-day  a votive  stone, 

That  memory  may  their  deed  redeem 
When,  like  our  sires,  our  sons  are  gone. 

Spirit  that  made  those  heroes  dare 
To  die  or  leave  their  children  free, 

Bid  Time  and  Nature  gently  spare 
The  shaft  we  raise  to  them  and  thee. 


Rhodora. 

In  May,  when  sea-winds  pierced  our  solitudes, 
I found  the  fresh  rhodora  in  the  woods, 


236 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Spreading  its  leafless  blooms  in  a damp  nook, 

To  please  the  desert  and  the  sluggish  brook. 

The  purple  petals,  fallen  in  the  pool, 

Made  the  black  water  with  their  beauty  gay ; 

Here  might  the  red-bird  come  his  plumes  to  cool, 

And  court  the  flower  that  cheapens  his  array. 

Rhodora ! if  the  sages  ask  thee  why 
This  charm  is  wasted  on  the  earth  and  sky, 

Tell  them,  dear,  that  if  eyes  were  made  for  seeing, 

Then  beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being ; 

Why  thou  wert  there,  O rival  of  the  rose ! 

I never  thought  to  ask,  I never  knew ; 

But  in  my  simple  ignorance  suppose 
The  selfsame  Power  that  brought  me  there,  brought  you. 


MARGARET  FULLER. 

The  True  Criticism. 

[From  Papers  on  Literature  and  Art .] 

There  are  two  ways  of  considering  poems  or  the  prod- 
ucts of  literature  in  general.  We  may  tolerate  only  what 
is  excellent,  and  demand  that  whatever  is  consigned  to 
print  for  the  benefit  of  the  human  race  should  exhibit 
fruits  perfect  in  shape,  color,  and  flavor,  enclosing  kernels 
of  permanent  value.  Those  who  demand  this  will  be 
content  only  with  the  Iliads  and  Odysseys  of  the  mind’s 
endeavor.  They  can  feed  nowhere  but  at  rich  men’s 
tables ; in  the  wildest  recess  of  Nature  roots  and  berries 
will  not  content  them.  They  say,  “ If  you  can  thus 
satiate  your  appetite,  it  is  degrading;  we,  the  highly 
refined  in  taste  and  the  tissue  of  the  mind,  can  no- 


MARGARET  FULLER . 


237 


where  be  appeased  unless  by  golden  apples  served  up 
on  silver  dishes.” 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  literature  may  be  regarded  as 
the  great  mutual  system  of  interpretation  between  all 
kinds  and  classes  of  men.  It  is  an  epistolary  corre- 
spondence between  brethren  of  one  family  subject  to 
many  and  wide  separations  and  anxious  to  remain  in 
spiritual  presence  one  of  another.  These  letters  may  be 
written  by  the  prisoner  in  soot  and  water,  illustrated  by 
rude  sketches  in  charcoal ; by  Nature’s  nobleman,  free  to 
use  his  inheritance,  in  letters  of  gold,  with  the  fair  margin 
filled  with  exquisite  miniatures : to  the  true  man  each  will 
have  value— first,  in  proportion  to  the  degree  of  its  revela- 
tion as  to  the  life  of  the  human  soul ; second , in  propor- 
tion to  the  perfection  of  form  in  which  that  revelation  is 
expressed. 

In  like  manner  are  there  two  modes  of  criticism — one 
which  tries,  by  the  highest  standard  of  literary  perfection 
the  critic  is  capable  of  conceiving,  each  work  which  comes 
in  his  way ; rejecting  all  that  it  is  possible  to  reject,  and 
reserving  for  toleration  only  what  is  capable  of  standing 
the  severest  test.  It  crushes  to  earth  without  mercy  all 
the  humble  buds  of  phantasy,  all  the  plants  that,  though 
green  and  fruitful,  are  also  a prey  to  insects  or  have  suf- 
fered by  drouth.  It  weeds  well  the  garden,  and  cannot 
believe  that  the  weed  in  its  native  soil  may  be  a pretty, 
graceful  plant. 

There  is  another  mode  which  enters  into  the  natural 
history  of  everything  that  breathes  and  lives,  which  be- 
lieves no  impulse  to  be  entirely  in  vain,  which  scrutinizes 
circumstances,  motive,  and  object  before  it  condemns,  and 
believes  there  is  a beauty  in  each  natural  form  if  its  law 
and  purpose  be  understood.  It  does  not  consider  a litera- 
ture merely  as  the  garden  of  the  nation,  but  as  the  growih 
of  the  entire  region,  with  all  its  variety  of  mountain,  forest, 
pasture,  and  tillage  lands.  Those  who  observe  in  this  spirit 


238 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


will  often  experience,  from  some  humble  offering  to  the 
muses,  the  delight  felt  by  the  naturalist  in  the  grasses  and 
lichens  of  some  otherwise  barren  spot.  These  are  the  earl- 
iest and  humblest  efforts  of  Nature,  but  to  a discerning 
eye  they  indicate  the  entire  range  of  her  energies. 

These  two  schools  have  each  their  dangers.  The  first 
tends  to  hypercriticism  and  pedantry,  to  a cold  restriction 
on  the  unstudied  action  of  a large  and  flowing  life.  In 
demanding  that  the  stream  should  always  flow  transpa- 
rent over  golden  sands,  it  tends  to  repress  its  careless  maj- 
esty, its  vigor,  and  its  fertilizing  power. 

The  other  shares  the  usual  perils  of  the  genial  and  affec- 
tionate : it  tends  to  indiscriminate  indulgence  and  a level- 
ling of  the  beautiful  with  what  is  merely  tolerable.  For, 
indeed,  the  vines  need  judicious  pruning  if  they  are  to 
bring  us  the  ruby  wine. 

In  the  golden  age  to  which  we  are  ever  looking  forward 
these  two  tendencies  will  be  harmonized.  The  highest 
sense  of  fulfilled  excellence  will  be  found  to  consist  with 
the  largest  appreciation  of  every  sign  of  life.  The  eye  of 
man  is  fitted  to  range  all  around,  no  less  than  to  be  lifted 
on  high. 


HENRY  DAVID  THOREAU. 

Wild  Nature. 

[From  Walden.] 

Our  village-life  would  stagnate  if  it  were  not  for  the 
unexplored  forests  and  meadows  which  surround  it.  We 
need  the  tonic  of  wildness — to  wade  sometimes  in  marshes 
where  the  bittern  and  the  meadow-hen  lurk,  and  hear  the 
booming  of  the  snipe ; to  smell  the  whispering  sedge  where 
only  some  wilder  and  more  solitary  fowl  builds  her  nest 


HENRY  DAVID  T HO  REAL7 . 


239 


and  the  mink  crawls  with  its  belly  close  to  the  ground. 
At  the  same  time  that  we  are  earnest  to  explore  and  learn 
all  things,  we  require  that  all  things  be  mysterious  and 
unexplorable — that  land  and  sea  be  infinitely  wild,  unsur- 
veyed, and  unfathomed  by  us  because  unfathomable.  We 
can  never  have  enough  of  Nature.  We  must  be  refreshed 
by  the  sight  of  inexhaustible  vigor,  vast  and  Titanic  fea- 
tures— the  sea-coast  with  its  wrecks,  the  wilderness  with 
its  living  and  its  decaying  trees,  the  thunder-cloud,  and 
the  rain  which  lasts  three  weeks  and  produces  freshets. 
We  need  to  witness  our  own  limits  transgressed,  and  some 
life  pasturing  freely  where  we  never  wander.  We  are 
cheered  when  we  observe  the  vulture  feeding  on  the  car- 
rion which  disgusts  and  disheartens  us,  and  deriving 
health  and  strength  from  the  repast.  There  was  a dead 
horse  in  the  hollow  by  the  path  to  my  house,  which  com- 
pelled me  sometimes  to  go  out  of  my  way,  especially  in 
the  night  when  the  air  was  heavy ; but  the  assurance  it 
gave  me  of  the  strong  appetite  and  inviolable  health  of 
Nature  was  my  compensation  for  this.  I love  to  see  that 
Nature  is  so  rife  with  life  that  myriads  can  be  afforded  to 
be  sacrificed  and  suffered  to  prey  on  one  another;  that 
tender  organizations  can  be  so  serenely  squashed  out  of 
existence  like  pulp — tadpoles  which  herons  gobble  up, 
and  tortoises  and  toads  run  over  in  the  road ; and  that 
sometimes  it  has  rained  flesh  and  blood ! With  the  lia- 
bility to  accident  we  must  see  how  little  account  is  to  be 
made  of  it.  The  impression  made  on  a wise  man  is  that 
of  universal  innocence.  Poison  is  not  poisonous  after  all, 
nor  are  any  wounds  fatal.  Compassion  is  a very  untenable 
ground.  It  must  be  expeditious.  Its  pleadings  will  not 
bear  to  be  stereotyped. 

Early  in  May  the  oaks,  hickories,  maples,  and  other 
trees,  just  putting  out  amidst  the  pine  woods  around  the 
pond,  imparted  a brightness  like  sunshine  to  the  land- 
scape, especially  in  cloudy  days,  as  if  the  sun  were  break- 


240 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


ing  through  mists  and  shining  faintly  on  the  hillsides  here 
and  there.  On  the  third  or  fourth  of  May  I saw  a loon  in 
the  pond,  and  during  the  first  week  of  the  month  I heard 
the  whippoorwill,  the  brown  thrasher,  the  veery,  the  wood- 
pewee,  the  chewink,  and  other  birds.  I heard  the  wood- 
thrush  long  before.  The  phoebe  had  already  come  once 
more,  and  looked  in  at  my  door  and  window  to  see  if  my 
house  was  cavern-like  enough  for  her,  sustaining  herself 
on  humming  wings  with  clenched  talons,  as  if  she  held  by 
the  air  while  she  surveyed  the  premises.  The  sulphur-like 
pollen  of  the  pitch-pine  soon  covered  the  pond  and  the 
stones  and  rotten  wood  along  the  shore,  so  that  you  could 
have  collected  a barrelful.  This  is  the  “ sulphur  showers  ” 
we  hear  of.  Even  in  Calidas5  drama  of  Sacontala  we  read 
of  “rills  dyed  yellow  with  the  golden  dust  of  the  lotus.” 
And  so  the  seasons  went  rolling  on  into  summer,  as  one 
rambles  into  higher  and  higher  grass. 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 

David  Swan. 

[From  Twice-Told  Tales .] 

We  can  be  but  partially  acquainted  even  with  the  events 
which  actually  influence  our  course  through  life  and  our 
final  destiny.  There  are  innumerable  other  events — if 
such  they  may  be  called — which  come  close  upon  us,  yet 
pass  away  without  actual  results,  or  even  betraying  their 
near  approach,  by  the  reflection  of  any  light  or  shadow 
across  our  minds.  Could  we  know  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
our  fortunes,  life  would  be  too  full  of  hope  and  fear,  exul- 
tation or  disappointment,  to  afford  us  a single  hour  of  true 
serenity.  This  idea  may  be  illustrated  by  a page  from  the 
secret  history  of  David  Swan. 

We  have  nothing  to  do  with  David  until  we  find  him, 
at  the  age  of  twenty,  on  the  highroad  from  his  native  place 


NATHANIEL  HA  }V THORNE. 


241 


to  the  city  of  Boston,  where  his  uncle,  a small  dealer  in 
the  grocery  line,  was  to  take  him  behind  the  counter.  Be 
it  enough  to  say  that  he  was  a native  of  New  Hampshire, 
born  of  respectable  parents,  and  had  received  an  ordinary 
school  education,  with  a classic  finish  by  a year  at  Gil- 
manton  Academy.  After  journeying  on  foot  from  sunrise 
till  nearly  noon  of  a summer’s  day,  his  weariness  and  the 
increasing  heat  determined  him  to  sit  down  in  the  first 
convenient  shade  and  await  the  coming  up  of  the  stage- 
coach. As  if  planted  on  purpose  for  him,  there  soon  ap- 
peared a little  tuft  of  maples  with  a delightful  recess  in 
the  midst,  and  such  a fresh,  bubbling  spring  that  it  seemed 
never  to  have  sparkled  for  any  wayfarer  but  David  Swan. 
Virgin  or  not,  he  kissed  it  with  his  thirsty  lips,  and  then 
Hung  himself  along  the  brink,  pillowing  his  head  upon 
some  shirts  and  a pair  of  pantaloons  tied  up  in  a striped 
cotton  handkerchief.  The  sunbeams  could  not  reach  him ; 
the  dust  did  not  yet  rise  from  the  road  after  the  heavy  rain 
of  yesterday ; and  his  grassy  lair  suited  the  young  man 
better  than  a bed  of  down.  The  spring  murmured  drows- 
ily beside  him ; the  branches  waved  dreamily  across  the 
blue  sky  overhead  ; and  a deep  sleep,  perchance  hiding 
dreams  within  its  depths,  fell  upon  David  Swan.  But  we 
are  to  relate  events  which  he  did  not  dream  of. 

While  he  lay  sound  asleep  in  the  shade  other  people 
were  wide  awake,  and  passed  to  and  fro,  afoot,  on  horse- 
back, and  in  all  sorts  of  vehicles,  along  the  sunny  road  by 
his  bed-chamber.  Some  looked  neither  to  the  right  hand 
nor  the  left,  and  knew  not  that  he  was  there ; some  merely 
glanced  that  way  without  admitting  the  slumberer  among 
their  busy  thoughts;  some  laughed  to  see  how  soundly 
he  slept;  and  several,  whose  hearts  were  brimming  full 
of  scorn,  ejected  their  venomous  superfluity  on  David 
Swan.  A middle-aged  widow,  when  nobody  else  was  near, 
thrust  her  head  a little  way  into  the  recess  and  vowed  that 
the  young  fellow  looked  charming  in  his  sleep.  A temper- 
16 


242 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


ance  lecturer  saw  him,  and  wrought  poor  David  into  the 
texture  of  his  evening’s  discourse  as  an  awful  instance  of 
dead-drunkenness  by  the  roadside.  But  censure,  praise, 
merriment,  scorn,  and  indifference  were  all  one,  or  rather 
all  nothing,  to  David  Swan. 

He  had  slept  only  a few  moments  when  a brown  car- 
riage, drawn  by  a handsome  pair  of  horses,  bowled  easily 
along,  and  was  brought  to  a standstill  nearly  in  front  of 
David’s  resting-place.  A linchpin  had  fallen  out  and  per- 
mitted one  of  the  wheels  to  slide  off.  The  damage  was 
slight,  and  occasioned  merely  a momentaiy  alarm  to  an 
elderly  merchant  and  his  wife  who  were  returning  to  Bos- 
ton in  the  carriage.  While  the  coachman  and  a servant 
were  replacing  the  wheel  the  lady  and  gentleman  sheltered 
themselves  beneath  the  maple  trees,  and  there  espied  the 
bubbling  fountain,  and  David  Swan  asleep  beside  it.  Im- 
pressed with  the  awe  which  the  humblest  sleeper  usually 
sheds  around  him,  the  merchant  trod  as  lightly  as  the  gout 
would  allow,  and  his  spouse  took  good  heed  not  to  rustle 
her  silk  gown  lest  David  should  start  up  all  of  a sudden. 

“ How  soundly  he  sleeps  !”  whispered  the  old  gentleman. 
“ From  what  a depth  he  draws  that  easy  breath  ! Such 
sleep  as  that,  brought  on  without  an  opiate,  would  be 
worth  more  to  me  than  half  my  income,  for  it  would  sup- 
pose health  and  an  untroubled  mind.” 

“ And  youth  besides,”  said  the  lady.  “ Healthy  and 
quiet  age  does  not  sleep  thus.  Our  slumber  is  no  more 
like  this  than  our  wakefulness.” 

The  longer  they  looked  the  more  did  this  elderly  couple 
feel  interested  in  the  unknown  youth,  to  whom  the  way- 
side  and  a maple  shade  were  as  a secret  chamber  with  the 
rich  gloom  of  damask  curtains  brooding  over  him. 

Perceiving  that  a stray  sunbeam  glimmered  down  upon 
his  face,  the  lady  contrived  to  twist  a branch  aside  so  as  to 
intercept  it ; and,  having  done  this  little  act  of  kindness, 
she  began  to  feel  like  a mother  to  him. 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 


243 


“ Providence  seems  to  have  laid  him  here,”  whispered 
she  to  her  husband,  “ and  to  have  brought  us  hither  to  find 
him  after  our  disappointment  in  our  cousin’s  son.  Me- 
thinks  I can  see  a likeness  to  our  departed  Henry.  Shall 
we  wake  him  ?” 

“ To  what  purpose  ?”  said  the  merchant,  hesitating. 
“ We  know  nothing  of  the  youth’s  character.” 

“ That  open  countenance !”  replied  his  wife,  in  the  same 
hushed  voice,  yet  earnestly,  “ this  innocent  sleep !” 

While  these  whispers  were  passing  the  sleeper’s  heart 
did  not  throb,  nor  his  breath  become  agitated,  nor  his 
features  betray  the  least  token  of  interest  ; yet  Fortune 
was  bending  over  him,  just  ready  to  let  fall  a burden  of 
gold.  The  old  merchant  had  lost  his  only  son,  and  had  no 
heir  to  his  wealth  except  a distant  relative,  with  whose  con- 
duct he  was  dissatisfied.  In  such  cases  people  sometimes 
do  stranger  things  than  to  act  the  magician  and  awaken 
a young  man  to  splendor  who  fell  asleep  in  poverty. 

“ Shall  we  not  waken  him  ?”  repeated  the  lady,  per- 
suasively. 

“ The  coach  is  ready,  sir,”  said  the  servant,  behind. 

The  old  couple  started,  reddened,  and  hurried  away, 
mutually  wondering  that  they  should  ever  have  dreamed 
of  doing  anything  so  very  ridiculous.  The  merchant  threw 
himself  back  in  the  carriage,  and  occupied  his  mind  with 
the  plan  of  a magnificent  asylum  for  unfortunate  men  of 
business.  Meanwhile,  David  Swan  enjoyed  his  nap. 

The  carriage  could  not  have  gone  above  a mile  or  two 
when  a pretty  young  girl  came  along  with  a tripping  pace, 
which  showed  precisely  how  her  little  heart  was  dancing 
in  her  bosom.  Perhaps  it  was  this  merry  kind  of  motion 
that  caused — is  there  any  harm  in  saying  it? — her  garter 
to  slip  its  knot.  Conscious  that  the  silken  girth — if  silk  it 
were — was  relaxing  its  hold,  she  turned  aside  into  the 
shelter  of  the  maple  trees,  and  there  found  a young  man 
asleep  by  the  spring.  Blushing  as  red  as  any  rose  that 


244 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


she  should  have  intruded  into  a gentleman's  bed-chamber, 
and  for  such  a purpose  too,  she  was  about  to  make  her 
escape  on  tiptoe.  But  there  was  peril  near  the  sleeper.  A 
monster  of  a bee  had  been  wandering  overhead — buzz, 
buzz,  buzz — now  among  the  leaves,  now  flashing  through 
the  strips  of  sunshine,  and  now  lost  in  the  dark  shade,  till 
finally  he  appeared  to  be  settling  on  the  eyelid  of  David 
Swan.  The  sting  of  a bee  is  sometimes  deadly.  As  free- 
hearted as  she  was  innocent,  the  girl  attacked  the  intruder 
with  her  handkerchief,  brushed  him  soundly,  and  drove 
him  from  beneath  the  maple  shade.  How  sweet  a picture  ! 
This  good  deed  accomplished,  with  quickened  breath  and  a 
deeper  blush  she  stole  a glance  at  the  youthful  stranger, 
for  whom  she  had  been  battling  with  a dragon  in  the  air. 

“ He  is  handsome !”  thought  she,  and  blushed  redder  yet. 

How  could  it  be  that  no  dream  of  bliss  grew  so  strong 
within  him  that,  shattered  by  its  very  strength,  it  should 
part  asunder  and  allow  him  to  perceive  the  girl  among 
its  phantoms?  Why,  at  least,  did  no  smile  of  welcome 
brighten  upon  his  face?  She  was  come,  the  maid  whose 
soul,  according  to  the  old  and  beautiful  idea,  had  been 
severed  from  his  own,  and  whom,  in  all  his  vague  but 
passionate  desires,  he  yearned  to  meet.  Her  only  could  he 
love  with  a perfect  love;  him  only  could  she  receive  into 
the  depths  of  her  heart;  and  now  her  image  was  faintly 
blushing  in  the  fountain  by  his  side : should  it  pass  away 
its  happy  lustre  would  never  gleam  upon  his  life  again. 

“ How  sound  he  sleeps !”  murmured  the  girl. 

She  departed,  but  did  not  trip  along  the  road  so  lightly 
as  when  she  came. 

Now  this  girl’s  father  was  a thriving  country  merchant 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  happened  at  that  identical  time 
to  be  looking  out  for  just  such  a young  man  as  David 
Swan.  Had  David  formed  a wayside  acquaintance  with 
the  daughter,  he  would  have  become  the  father’s  clerk, 
and  all  else  in  natural  succession.  So  here,  again,  had 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 


245 


good  fortune — the  best  of  fortunes — stolen  so  near  that  her 
garments  brushed  against  him ; and  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  matter. 

The  girl  was  hardly  out  of  sight  when  two  men  turned 
aside  beneath  the  maple  shade.  Both  had  dark  faces,  set 
off  by  cloth  caps,  which  were  drawn  down  aslant  over  their 
brows.  Their  dresses  were  shabby,  yet  had  a certain 
smartness.  These  were  a couple  of  rascals,  who  got  their 
living  by  whatever  the  devil  sent  them,  and  now,  in  the 
interim  of  other  business,  had  staked  the  joint  profits  of 
their  next  piece  of  villany  on  a game  of  cards  which  was 
to  have  been  decided  here  under  the  trees.  But  finding 
David  asleep  by  the  spring,  one  of  the  rogues  whispered  to 
his  fellow, 

“ Hist ! Do  you  see  that  bundle  under  his  head  ?” 

The  other  villain  nodded,  winked,  and  leered. 

“ I’ll  bet  you  a horn  of  brandy,”  said  the  first,  “ that  the 
chap  has  either  a pocket-book  or  a snug  little  hoard  of 
small  change  stowed  away  amongst  his  shirts.  And  if  not 
there,  we  shall  find  it  in  his  pantaloons  pocket.” 

“ But  what  if  he  wakes  ?”  said  the  other. 

His  companion  thrust  aside  his  waistcoat,  pointed  to  the 
handle  of  a dirk,  and  nodded. 

“ So  be  it,”  muttered  the  second  villain. 

They  approached  the  unconscious  David,  and  while  one 
pointed  the  dagger  toward  his  heart  the  other  began  to 
search  the  bundle  beneath  his  head.  Their  two  faces, 
grim,  wrinkled,  and  ghastly  with  guilt  and  fear,  bent 
over  their  victim,  looking  horrible  enough  to  be  mis- 
taken for  fiends  should  he  suddenly  awake.  Nay,  had 
the  villains  glanced  aside  into  the  spring,  even  they 
would  hardly  have  known  themselves  as  reflected  there. 
But  David  Swan  had  never  worn  a more  tranquil  aspect, 
even  when  asleep  on  his  mother’s  breast. 

“ I must  take  away  the  bundle,”  whispered  one. 

“ If  he  stirs  I’ll  strike,”  muttered  the  other. 


246 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


But  at  this  moment  a dog,  scenting  along  the  ground, 
came  in  beneath  the  maple  trees,  and  gazed  alternately  at 
each  of  these  wicked  men  and  then  at  the  quiet  sleeper. 
He  then  lapped  out  of  the  fountain. 

u Pshaw !”  said  one  villain.  “ We  can  do  nothing  now. 
The  dog’s  master  must  be  close  behind.” 

“ Let’s  take  a drink  and  be  off,”  said  the  other. 

The  man  with  the  dagger  thrust  back  the  weapon  into 
his  bosom  and  drew  forth  a pocket  pistol,  but  not  of  that 
kind  which  kills  by  a single  discharge.  It  was  a flask  of 
liquor,  with  a block-tin  tumbler  screwed  upon  the  mouth. 
Each  drank  a comfortable  dram,  and  left  the  spot  with  so 
many  jests  and  such  laughter  at  their  unaccomplished 
wickedness  that  they  might  be  said  to  have  gone  on  their 
way  rejoicing.  In  a few  hours  they  had  forgotten  the 
whole  affair,  nor  once  imagined  that  the  recording  angel 
had  written  down  the  crime  of  murder  against  their  souls 
in  letters  as  durable  as  eternity.  As  for  Davin  Swan,  he 
still  slept  quietly,  neither  conscious  of  the  shadow  of  death 
when  it  hung  over  him  nor  of  the  glow  of  renewed  life 
when  that  shadow  was  withdrawn. 

He  slept,  but  no  longer  so  quietly  as  at  first.  An  hour’s 
repose  had  snatched  from  his  elastic  frame  the  weariness 
with  which  many  hours  of  toil  had  burdened  it.  Now  he 
stirred  ; now  moved  his  lips,  without  a sound  ; now  talked, 
in  an  inward  tone,  to  the  noonday  spectres  of  his  dream. 
But  a noise  of  wheels  came  rattling  louder  and  louder 
along  the  road,  until  it  dashed  through  the  dispersing 
mist  of  David’s  slumber;  and  there  was  the  stage-coach. 
He  started  up  wflth  all  his  ideas  about  him. 

“ Halloo,  driver!  Take  a passenger?”  shouted  he. 

“ Room  on  top,”  answered  the  driver. 

Up  mounted  David,  and  bowled  away  merrily  toward 
Boston,  without  so  much  as  a parting  glance  at  that  foun- 
tain of  dream-like  vicissitude.  He  knew  not  that  a phan- 
tom of  Wealth  had  thrown  a golden  hue  upon  its  waters, 


NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE. 


247 


nor  that  one  of  Love  had  sighed  softly  to  their  murmur 
nor  that  one  of  Death  had  threatened  to  crimson  them 
with  his  blood, — all  in  the  brief  hour  since  he  lay  down 
to  sleep.  Sleeping  or  waking,  we  hear  not  the  airy  foot- 
steps of  the  strange  things  that  almost  happen.  Does 
it  not  argue  a superintending  Providence  that,  while 
viewless  and  unexpected  events  thrust  themselves  con- 
tinually athwart  our  path,  there  should  still  be  regular- 
ity enough  in  mortal  life  to  render  foresight  even  par- 
tially available? 


The  Old  Manse. 

[From  Mosses  from  an  Old  Manse .] 

There  was  in  the  rear  of  the  house  the  most  delightful 
little  nook  of  a study  that  ever  offered  its  snug  seclusion 
to  a scholar.  It  was  here  that  Emerson  wrote  Nature; 
for  he  was  then  an  inhabitant  of  the  Manse,  and  used  to 
watch  the  Assyrian  dawn  and  the  Paphian  sunset  and 
moonrise  from  the  summit  of  our  eastern  hill.  When  I. 
first  saw  the  room  its  walls  wTere  blackened  with  the 
smoke  of  unnumbered  years,  and  made  still  blacker  by 
the  grim  prints  of  Puritan  ministers  that  hung  around. 
These  worthies  looked  strangely  like  bad  angels,  or,  at 
least,  like  men  who  had  wrestled  so  continually  and  so 
sternly  with  the  devil  that  somewhat  of  his  sooty  fierce- 
ness had  been  imparted  to  their  own  visages.  They  had 
all  vanished  now : a cheerful  coat  of  paint  and  golden- 
tinted  paper-hangings  lighted  up  the  small  apartment,  while 
the  shadow  of  a willow  tree  that  swept  against  the  over- 
hanging eaves  attempered  the  cheery  western  sunshine.  In 
place  of  the  grim  prints  there  was  the  sweet  and  lovely 
head  of  one  of  Raphael’s  Madonnas,  and  two  pleasant 
little  pictures  of  the  Lake  of  Como.  The  only  other 
decorations  were  a purple  vase  of  flowers,  always  fresh, 


248 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


and  a bronze  one  containing  graceful  ferns.  My  books 
(few  and  by  no  means  choice,  for  they  were  chiefly  suclu 
waifs  as  chance  had  thrown  in  my  way)  stood  in  order 
about  the  room,  seldom  to  be  disturbed. 

The  study  had  three  windows,  set  with  little  old-fash- 
ioned panes  of  glass,  each  with  a crack  across  it.  The  two 
on  the  western  side  looked,  or  rather  peeped,  between  the 
willow-branches  down  into  the  orchard,  with  glimpses  of 
the  river  through  the  trees.  The  third,  facing  northward, 
commanded  a broader  view  of  the  river  at  a spot  where 
its  hitherto  obscure  waters  gleam  forth  into  the  light  of 
history.  It  was  at  this  window  that  the  clergyman  who 
then  dwelt  in  the  Manse  stood  watching  the  outbreak  of  a 
long  and  deadly  struggle  between  two  nations ; he  saw  the 
irregular  array  of  his  parishioners  on  the  farther  side  of 
the  river,  and  the  glittering  line  of  the  British  on  the 
hither  bank;  he  awaited,  in  an  agony  of  suspense,  the 
rattle  of  the  musketry.  It  came,  and  there  needed  but  a 
gentle  wind  to  sweep  the  battle-smoke  around  this  quiet 
house. 


JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER. 
Proem. 

I love  the  old  melodious  lays 
Which  softly  melt  the  ages  through, 

The  songs  of  Spenser’s  golden  days, 

Arcadian  Sidney’s  silvery  phrase, 

Sprinkling  our  noon  of  time  with  freshest  morning  dew. 

Yet  vainly  in  ray  quiet  hours 
To  breathe  their  marvellous  notes  I try ; 

I feel  them  as  the  leaves  and  flowers 
In  silence  feel  the  dewy  showers, 

And  drink  with  glad,  still  lips  the  blessing  of  the  sky. 


JOHN  GREEN  LEAF  WHITTIER . 


249 


The  rigor  of  a frozen  clime, 

The  harshness  of  an  untaught  ear, 

The  jarring  words  of  one  whose  rhyme 
Beat  often  Labor’s  hurried  time 
Or  Duty’s  rugged  march  through  storm  and  strife,  are  here. 

Of  mystic  beauty,  dreamy  grace, 

No  rounded  art  the  lack  supplies; 

Unskilled  the  subtle  lines  to  trace, 

Or  softer  shades  of  Nature’s  face, 

I view  her  common  forms  with  unanointed  eyes. 

Nor  mine  the  seer-like  power  to  show 
The  secrets  of  the  heart  and  mind ; 

To  drop  the  plummet-line  below 
Our  common  world  of  joy  and  woe, 

A more  intense  despair  or  brighter  hope  to  find. 

Yet  here  at  least  an  earnest  sense 
Of  human  right  and  weal  is  shown ; 

A hate  of  tyranny  intense, 

And  hearty  in  its  vehemence, 

As  if  my  brother’s  pain  and  sorrow  were  my  own. 

O Freedom  ! if  to  me  belong 
Nor  mighty  Milton’s  gift  divine, 

Nor  Marvell’s  wit  and  graceful  song, 

Still,  with  a love  as  deep  and  strong 
As  theirs,  I lay,  like  them,  my  best  gifts  on  thy  shrine  ! 

To  William  Lloyd  Garrison. 

Champion  of  those  who  groan  beneath 
Oppression’s  iron  hand ! 

In  view  of  penury,  hate,  and  death, 

I see  thee  fearless  stand, 


250 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Still  bearing  up  thy  lofty  brow 
In  the  steadfast  strength  of  truth, 

In  manhood  sealing  well  the  vow 
And  promise  of  thy  youth. 

Go  on ! for  thou  hast  chosen  well — 

On,  in  the  strength  of  God  ! 

Long  as  one  human  heart  shall  swell 
Beneath  the  tyrant’s  rod. 

Speak  in  a slumbering  nation’s  ear 
As  thou  hast  ever  spoken, 

Until  the  dead  in  sin  shall  hear — 

The  fetter’s  link  be  broken ! 

I love  thee  with  a brother’s  love, 

I feel  my  pulses  thrill 
To  mark  thy  spirit  soar  above 
The  cloud  of  human  ill. 

My  heart  hath  leaped  to  answer  thine 
And  echo  back  thy  words, 

As  leaps  the  warrior’s  at  the  shine 
And  flash  of  kindred  swords. 

They  tell  me  thou  art  rash  and  vain — 

A searcher  after  fame — 

That  thou  art  striving  but  to  gain 
A long-enduring  name — 

That  thou  hast  nerved  the  Afric’s  hand, 
And  steel’d  the  Afric’s  heart, 

To  shake  aloft  his  vengeful  brand 
And  rend  his  chain  apart. 

Have  I not  known  thee  well,  and  read 
Thy  mighty  purpose  long, 

And  watch’d  the  trials  which  have  made 
Thy  human  spirit  strong  ? 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 


251 


And  shall  the  slanderer’s  demon  breath 
Avail  with  one  like  me, 

To  dim  the  sunshine  of  my  faith 
And  earnest  trust  in  thee  ? 

Go  on ! the  dagger’s  point  may  glare 
Amid  thy  pathway’s  gloom — 

The  fate  which  sternly  threatens  there 
Is  glorious  martyrdom ! 

Then  onward  with  a martyr’s  zeal, 

Pass  on  to  thy  reward — 

The  hour  when  man  shall  only  kneel 
Before  his  Father,  God. 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 
Hymn  to  the  Night. 

[From  Voices  of  the  Night.] 

I heard  the  trailing  garments  of  the  Night 
Sweep  through  her  marble  halls ; 

I saw  her  sable  skirts  all  fringed  with  light 
From  the  celestial  walls. 

I felt  her  presence,  by  its  spell  of  might, 

Stoop  o’er  me  from  above — 

The  calm,  majestic  presence  of  the  Night, 

As  of  the  one  I love. 

I heard  the  sounds  of  sorrow  and  delight, 

The  manifold,  soft  chimes, 

That  fill  the  haunted  chambers  of  the  Night, 
Like  some  old  poet’s  rhymes. 


252 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


From  the  cool  cisterns  of  the  midnight  air 
My  spirit  drank  repose ; 

The  fountain  of  perpetual  peace  Hows  there- — 
From  those  deep  cisterns  flows. 

0 holy  Night ! from  thee  I learn  to  bear 
What  man  has  borne  before ; 

Thou  layest  thy  finger  on  the  lips  of  Care, 

And  they  complain  no  more. 

Peace ! peace ! Orestes-like,  I breathe  this  prayer 
Descend  with  broad-winged  flight, 

The  welcome,  the  thrice-prayed  for,  the  most  fair, 
The  best-beloved  Night! 

The  Beleaguered  City. 

I have  read,  in  some  old,  marvellous  tale, 
Some  legend  strange  and  vague, 

That  a midnight  host  of  spectres  pale 
Beleaguered  the  walls  of  Prague. 

Beside  the  Moldau’s  rushing  stream, 

With  the  wan  moon  overhead, 

There  stood,  as  in  an  awful  dream, 

The  army  of  the  dead. 

White  as  a sea-fog,  landward  bound, 

The  spectral  camp  was  seen, 

And  with  a sorrowful,  deep  sound 
The  river  flowed  between. 

No  other  voice  nor  sound  was  there, 

No  drum  nor  sentry’s  pace ; 

The  mist-like  banners  clasped  the  air 
As  clouds  with  clouds  embrace. 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW . 


But  when  the  old  cathedral  bell 
Proclaimed  the  morning  prayer, 

The  white  pavilions  rose  and  fell 
On  the  alarmed  air. 

Down  the  broad  valley  fast  and  far 
The  troubled  army  fled ; 

Up  rose  the  glorious  morning  star — 

The  ghastly  host  was  dead. 

I have  read,  in  the  marvellous  heart  of  man, 
That  strange  and  mystic  scroll, 

That  an  army  of  phantoms  vast  and  wan 
Beleaguer  the  human  soul. 


Encamped  beside  Life’s  rushing  stream 
In  Fancy’s  misty  light, 

Gigantic  shapes  and  shadows  gleam 
Portentous  through  the  night. 

Upon  its  midnight  battle-ground 
The  spectral  camp  is  seen, 

And  with  a sorrowful,  deep  sound 
Flows  the  River  of  Life  between. 


No  other  voice  nor  sound  is  there 
In  the  army  of  the  grave : 

No  other  challenge  breaks  the  air, 

But  the  rushing  of  life’s  wave. 

And  when  the  solemn  and  deep  church-bell 
Entreats  the  soul  to  pray, 

The  midnight  phantoms  feel  the  spell, 

The  shadows  sweep  away. 


254 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Down  the  broad  Vale  of  Tears  afar 
The  spectral  camp  is  fled ; 

Faith  shineth  as  a morning  star. 

Our  ghastly  fears  are  dead. 

The  Arsenal  at  Springfield. 

This  is  the  Arsenal.  From  floor  to  ceiling, 

Like  a huge  organ,  rise  the  burnished  arms ; 

But  from  their  silent  pipes  no  anthem  pealing 
Startles  the  villages  with  strange  alarms. 

Ah ! what  a sound  will  rise,  how  wild  and  dreary, 
When  the  Death- Angel  touches  those  swift  keys  1 

What  loud  lament  and  dismal  miserere 
Will  mingle  with  their  awful  symphonies ! 

I hear  even  now  the  infinite  fierce  chorus, 

The  cries  of  agony,  the  endless  groan, 

Which,  through  the  ages  that  have  gone  before  us, 

In  long  reverberations  reach  our  own. 

On  helm  and  harness  rings  the  Saxon  hammer, 
Through  Cimbric  forest  roars  the  Norseman’s  song, 

And  loud,  amid  the  universal  clamor, 

O’er  distant  deserts  sounds  the  Tartar  gong. 

I hear  the  Florentine,  who  from  his  palace 
Wheels  out  his  battle-bell  with  dreadful  din, 

And  Aztec  priests  upon  their  teocallis 

Beat  the  wild  war-drums  made  of  serpent’s  skin ; 

The  tumult  of  each  sacked  and  burning  village  ; 

The  shout  that  every  prayer  for  mercy  drowns ; 

The  soldiers’  revels  in  the  midst  of  pillage ; 

The  wail  of  famine  in  beleaguered  towns ; 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 


255 


The  bursting  shell,  the  gateway  wrenched  asunder, 

The  rattling  musketry,  the  clashing  blade ; 

And  ever  and  anon,  in  tones  of  thunder, 

The  diapason  of  the  cannonade. 

Is  it,  0 man,  with  such  discordant  noises, 

With  such  accursed  instruments  as  these, 

Thou  drownest  Nature’s  sweet  and  kindly  voices, 

And  jarrest  the  celestial  harmonies? 

Were  half  the  power  that  fills  the  world  with  terror, 
Were  half  the  wealth  bestowed  on  camps  and  courts, 

Given  to  redeem  the  human  mind  from  error, 

There  were  no  need  of  arsenals  nor  forts. 

The  warrior’s  name  would  be  a name  abhorred, 

And  every  nation  that  should  lift  again 

Its  hand  against  a brother,  on  its  forehead 
Would  wear  for  evermore  the  curse  of  Cain. 

Down  the  dark  future,  through  long  generations, 

The  echoing  sounds  grow  fainter  and  then  cease; 

And  like  a bell,  with  solemn,  sweet  vibrations, 

I hear  once  more  the  voice  of  Christ  say,  “ Peace !” 

Peace ! and  no  longer  from  its  brazen  portals 
The  blast  of  War’s  great  organ  shakes  the  skies ! 

But,  beautiful  as  songs  of  the  immortals, 

The  holy  melodies  of  love  arise. 


The  Skeleton  in  Armor. 

“ Speak!  speak!  thou  fearful  guest ! 
Who  with  thy  hollow  breast 
Still  in  rude  armor  drest 
Comest  to  daunt  me ! 


256 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Wrapt  not  in  Eastern  balms, 

But  with  thy  fleshless  palms 
Stretched,  as  if  asking  alms, 

Why  dost  thou  haunt  me  ?” 

Then  from  those  cavernous  eyes 
Pale  flashes  seemed  to  rise, 

As  when  the  Northern  skies 
Gleam  in  December ; 

And  like  the  water’s  flow 
Under  December’s  snow, 

Came  a dull  voice  of  woe 
From  the  heart’s  chamber : 

“ I was  a Viking  old ! 

My  deeds,  though  manifold, 

No  Skald  in  song  has  told, 

No  saga  taught  thee ! 

Take  heed,  that  in  thy  verse 
Thou  dost  the  tale  rehearse, 

Else  dread  a dead  man’s  curse ; 
For  this  I sought  thee. 

“ Far  in  the  Northern  land, 

By  the  wild  Baltic’s  strand, 

I,  with  my  childish  hand, 

Tamed  the  gerfalcon ; 

And  with  my  skates  fast  bound 
Skimmed  the  half-frozen  sound, 
That  the  poor  whimpering  hound 
Trembled  to  walk  on. 

“ Oft  to  his  frozen  lair 
Tracked  I the  grisly  bear, 

While  from  my  path  the  hare 
Fled  like  a shadow ; 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 


257 


Oft  through  the  forest  dark 
Followed  the  were-wolf’s  bark, 
Until  the  soaring  lark 
Sang  from  the  meadow. 

“ But  when  I older  grew, 
Joining  a corsair’s  crew, 

O’er  the  dark  sea  I flew 
With  the  marauders. 

Wild  was  the  life  we  led  ; 
Many  the  souls  that  sped, 
Many  the  hearts  that  bled, 

By  our  stern  orders. 

“ Many  a wassail-bout 
Wore  the  long  winter  out ; 
Often  our  midnight  shout 
Set  the  cocks  crowing, 

As  we  the  Berserk’s  tale 
Measured  in  cups  of  ale, 
Draining  the  oaken  pail, 

Filled  to  o’erflowing. 

“ Once  as  I told  in  glee 
Tales  of  the  stormy  sea, 

Soft  eyes  did  gaze  on  me, 
Burning  yet  tender ; 

And  as  the  white  stars  shine 
On  the  dark  Norway  pine, 

On  that  dark  heart  of  mine 
Fell  their  soft  splendor. 

“ I wooed  the  blue-eyed  maid, 
Yielding,  yet  half  afraid, 

And  in  the  forest’s  shade 
Our  vows  were  plighted. 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Under  its  loosened  vest 
Fluttered  her  little  breast, 

Like  birds  within  their  nest 
By  the  hawk  frighted. 

“ Bright  in  her  father’s  hall 
Shields  gleamed  upon  the  wall, 

Loud  sang  the  minstrels  all, 

Chanting  his  glory : 

When  of  old  Hildebrand 
I asked  his  daughter’s  hand, 

Mute  did  the  minstrels  stand 
To  hear  my  story. 

“ While  the  brown  ale  he  quaffed, 

Loud  then  the  champion  laughed, 
And  as  the  wind-gusts  waft 
The  sea-foam  brightly, 

So  the  loud  laugh  of  scorn, 

Out  of  those  lips  unshorn, 

From  the  deep  drinking-horn 
Blew  the  foam  lightly. 

“ She  was  a prince’s  child, 

1 but  a Viking  wild, 

And,  though  she  blushed  and  smiled, 
I was  discarded ! 

Should  not  the  dove  so  white 
Follow  the  sea-mew’s  flight? 

Why  did  they  leave  that  night 
Her  nest  unguarded  ? 

“ Scarce  had  I put  to  sea, 

Bearing  the  maid  with  me — 

Fairest  of  all  was  she 
Among  the  Norsemen  ! — 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW. 


259 


When  on  the  white  sea-strand, 
Waving  his  armed  hand, 

Saw  we  old  Hildebrand, 

With  twenty  horsemen. 

“ Then  launched  they  to  the  blast, 
Bent  like  a reed  each  mast, 

Yet  we  were  gaining  fast, 

When  the  wind  failed  us ; 

And  with  a sudden  flaw 
Came  ’round  the  gusty  Skaw, 

So  that  our  foe  we  saw 
Laugh  as  he  hailed  us. 

“ And  as  to  catch  the  gale 
Round  veered  the  flapping  sail, 
Death  ! was  the  helmsman’s  hail, 
Death  without  quarter ! 
Midships  with  iron  keel 
Struck  we  her  ribs  of  steel; 

Down  her  black  hulk  did  reel 
Through  the  black  water. 

“ As  with  his  wings  aslant 
Sails  the  fierce  cormorant, 
Seeking  some  rocky  haunt 
With  his  prey  laden, 

So  toward  the  open  main, 

Beating  to  sea  again, 

Through  the  wild  hurricane 
Bore  I the  maiden. 

“ Three  weeks  we  westward  bore, 
And  when  the  storm  was  o’er, 
Cloud-like,  we  saw  the  shore 
Stretching  to  leeward; 


260 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


There  for  my  lady’s  bower 
Built  I the  lofty  tower 
Which,  to  this  very  hour, 

Stands  looking  seaward. 

“ There  lived  we  many  years ; 
Time  dried  the  maiden’s  tears  ; 
She  had  forgot  her  fears, 

She  was  a mother ; 

Death  closed  her  mild  blue  eyes ; 
Under  that  tower  she  lies; 

Ne’er  shall  the  sun  arise 
On  such  another. 

“ Still  grew  my  bosom  then, 

Still  as  a stagnant  fen ; 

Hateful  to  me  were  men, 

The  sunlight  hateful. 

In  the  vast  forest  here, 

Clad  in  my  warlike  gear, 

Fell  I upon  my  spear ; 

Oh,  death  was  grateful ! 

“ Thus,  seamed  with  many  scars, 
Bursting  its  prison-bars, 

Up  to  its  native  stars 
My  soul  ascended ! 

There  from  the  flowing  bowl 
Deep  drinks  the  warrior’s  soul, 
Skoal!  to  the  Northland!  skoal  !77 
Thus  the  tale  ended. 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW . 


261 


A National  Literature. 

[From  Kavanagh.'] 

The  visitor  was  shown  in.  He  announced  himself  as 
Mr.  Hathaway.  Passing  through  the  village,  he  could 
not  deny  himself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  Mr.  Churchill, 
whom  he  knew  by  his  writings  in  the  periodicals,  though 
not  personally.  He  wished,  moreover,  to  secure  the  co- 
operation of  one  already  so  favorably  known  to  the  literary 
world  in  a new  magazine  he  was  about  to  establish  in  order 
to  raise  the  character  of  American  literature,  which,  in  his 
opinion,  the  existing  reviews  and  magazines  had  entirely 
failed  to  accomplish.  A daily  increasing  want  of  some- 
thing better  was  felt  by  the  public,  and  the  time  had  come 
for  the  establishment  of  such  a periodical  as  he  proposed. 
After  explaining  in  a rather  florid  and  exuberant  manner 
his  plans  and  prospects,  he  entered  more  at  large  into  the 
subject  of  American  literature,  which  it  was  his  design  to 
foster  and  patronize. 

“ I think,  Mr.  Churchill,”  said  he,  “ that  we  want  a 
national  literature  commensurate  with  our  mountains 
and  rivers,  commensurate  with  Niagara  and  the  Allegha- 
nies  and  the  Great  Lakes.” 

“ Oh !” 

“ We  want  a national  epic  that  shall  correspond  to  the 
size  of  the  country — that  shall  be  to  all  other  epics  what 
Banvard’s  Panorama  of  the  Mississippi  is  to  all  other 
paintings — the  largest  in  the  world.” 

“Ah!” 

“We  want  a national  drama  in  which  scope  enough 
shall  be  given  to  our  gigantic  ideas  and  to  the  unparalleled 
activity  and  progress  of  our  people.” 

“ Of  course.” 

“ In  a word,  we  want  a national  literature  altogether 


262 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


shaggy  and  unshorn,  that  shall  shake  the  earth  like  a herd 
of  buffaloes  thundering  over  the  prairies.” 

“ Precisely,”  interrupted  Mr.  Churchill;  “but — excuse 
me ! — are  you  not  confounding  things  that  have  no  anal- 
ogy ? ‘ Great 5 has  a very  different  meaning  when  applied 
to  a river  and.  when  applied  to  a literature.  ‘ Large 5 and 
‘ shallow  ’ may  perhaps  be  applied  to  both.  Literature  is 
rather  an  image  of  the  spiritual  world  than  of  the  physical, 
is  it  not  ? — of  the  internal  rather  than  the  external.  Moun- 
tains, lakes,  and  rivers  are,  after  all,  only  its  scenery  and 
decorations,  not  its  substance  and  essence.  A man  will 
not  necessarily  be  a great  poet  because  he  lives  near  a 
great  mountain;  nor,  being  a poet,  will  he  necessarily 
write  better  poems  than  another  because  he  lives  nearer 
Niagara.” 

“ But,  Mr.  Churchill,  you  do  not  certainly  mean  to  deny 
the  influence  of  scenery  on  the  mind  ?” 

“ No,  only  to  deny  that  it  can  create  genius.  At  best  it 
can  only  develop  it.  Switzerland  has  produced  no  extra- 
ordinary poet,  nor,  as  far  as  I know,  have  the  Andes,  or 
the  Himalaya  Mountains,  or  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon 
in  Africa.” 

“ But,  at  all  events,”  urged  Mr.  Hathaway,  “ let  us  have 
our  literature  national.  If  it  is  not  national  it  is  nothing.” 
“ On  the  contrary,  it  may  be  a great  deal.  Nationality 
is  a good  thing  to  a certain  extent,  but  universality  is  bet- 
ter. All  that  is  best  in  the  great  poets  of  all  countries  is 
not  what  is  national  in  them,  but  what  is  universal.  Their 
roots  are  in  their  native  soil,  but  their  branches  wave  in 
the  unpatriotic  air  that  speaks  the  same  language  unto  all 
men,  and  their  leaves  shine  with  the  illimitable  light  that 
pervades  all  lands.  Let  us  throw  all  the  windows  open ; 
let  us  admit  the  light  and  air  on  all  sides,  that  we  may 
look  toward  the  four  corners  of  the  heavens,  and  not  always 
in  the  same  direction.” 

“ But  you  admit  nationality  to  be  a good  thing  ?” 


HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW . 


263 


“ Yes,  if  not  carried  too  far ; still,  I confess  it  rather 
limits  one’s  views  of  truth.  I prefer  what  is  natural.  Mere 
nationality  is  often  ridiculous.  Every  one  smiles  when  he 
hears  the  Icelandic  proverb,  ‘ Iceland  is  the  best  land 
the  sun  shines  upon.’  Let  us  be  natural  and  we  shall  be 
national  enough.  Besides,  our  literature  can  be  strictly 
national  only  so  far  as  our  character  and  modes  of  thought 
differ  from  those  of  other  nations.  Now,  as  we  are  very 
like  the  English — are,  in  fact,  English  under  a different 
sky — I do  not  see  how  our  literature  can  be  very  different 
from  theirs.  Westward  from  hand  to  hand  we  pass  the 
lighted  torch,  but  it  was  lighted  at  the  old  domestic  fire- 
side of  England.” 

“ Then  you  think  our  literature  is  never  to  be  anything 
but  an  imitation  of  the  English  ?” 

“ Not  at  all.  It  is  not  an  imitation,  but,  as  some  one  has 
said,  a continuation.” 

“ It  seems  to  me  that  you  take  a very  narrow  view  of  the 
subject.” 

“ On  the  contrary,  a very  broad  one.  No  literature  is 
complete  until  the  language  in  which  it  is  written  is  dead. 
We  may  well  be  proud  of  our  task  and  of  our  position. 
Let  us  see  if  we  can  build  in  any  way  worthy  of  our  fore- 
fathers.” 

“ But  I insist  on  originality.” 

“ Yes,  but  without  spasms  and  convulsions.  Authors 
must  not,  like  Chinese  soldiers,  expect  to  win  victories  by 
turning  somersets  in  the  air.” 

“Well,  really,  the  prospect  from  your  point  of  view  is 
not  very  brilliant.  Pray,  what  you  do  think  of  our  na- 
tional literature  ?” 

“ Simply,  that  a national  literature  is  not  the  growth  of 
a day.  Centuries  must  contribute  their  dew  and  sunshine 
to  it.  Our  own  is  growing  slowly  but  surely,  striking  its 
roots  downward  and  its  branches  upward,  as  is  natural ; 
and  I do  not  wish,  for  the  sake  of  what  some  people  call 


264 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


originality,  to  invert  it,  and  try  to  make  it  grow  with  its 
roots  in  the  air.  And  as  for  having  it  so  savage  and  wild 
as  you  want  it,  I have  only  to  say  that  all  literature,  as  well 
as  all  art,  is  the  result  of  culture  and  intellectual  refine- 
ment.” 

“Ah!  we  do  not  want  art  and  refinement;  we  want 
genius,  untutored,  wild,  original,  free.” 

“ But  if  this  genius  is  to  find  any  expression  it  must 
employ  art,  for  art  is  the  external  expression  of  our 
thoughts.  Many  have  genius,  but,  wanting  art,  are  for 
ever  dumb.  The  two  must  go  together  to  form  the  great 
poet,  painter,  or  sculptor.” 

“ In  that  sense,  very  well.” 

“ I was  about  to  say  also  that  I thought  our  literature 
would  finally  not  be  wanting  in  a kind  of  universality. 
As  the  blood  of  all  nations  is  mingling  with  our  own,  so 
will  their  thoughts  and  feelings  finally  mingle  in  our  liter- 
ature. We  shall  draw  from  the  Germans,  tenderness; 
from  the  Spaniards,  passion ; from  the  French,  vivacity, 
to  mingle  more  and  more  with  our  English  common  sense. 
And  this  will  give  us  universality,  so  much  to  be  desired.” 


GEORGE  STILLMAN  HILLARD. 

First  Impressions  of  Venice. 

[From  Six  Months  in  Italy.] 

No  city  exerts  so  strong  a spell  over  the  imagination  as 
Venice.  The  book  of  Rome  has  many  more  pages,  but  no 
one  chapter  like  that  of  Venice.  The  history  of  Venice  is 
full  of  dramatic  interest,  and  poets  of  all  nations  have 
found  it  a fruitful  storehouse  of  plot,  incident,  and  charac- 
ter. Without  doubt  it  had  its  fair  proportion  of  prosaic 
tranquillity  and  its  monotonous  tracts  of  uneventful  hap- 


GEORGE  STILLMAN  HILLARD. 


265 


piness ; but  these  are  unheeded  in  the  splendor  of  the  pic- 
turesque and  salient  points — its  conquests,  its  revolutions, 
its  conspiracies,  and  its  judicial  murders.  Shakespeare 
makes  us  familiar  with  its  name  at  an  age  when  names 
are  but  sounds,  and  the  forms  with  which  he  has  peopled 
it  are  the  first  ever  to  greet  the  mind’s  eye  when  we  ap- 
proach it.  Shylock  still  darkens  the  Rialto  with  his 
frown;  the  lordly  form  of  Othello  yet  stalks  across  the 
Piazza  of  St.  Mark’s ; and  every  veil  that  flutters  in  the 
breeze  shrouds  the  roguish  black  eyes  of  Jessica.  Pictures 
and  engravings  introduce  us  to  its  peculiar  architecture, 
and  we  come  into  its  presence  with  an  image  in  our 
thoughts,  and  are  not  unprepared  for  what  we  see.  Ven- 
ice never  takes  us  by  surprise.  We  are  always  forewarned 
and  forearmed,  and  thus  its  unique  character  never  has 
quite  a fair  chance  with  us. 

The  whole  scene,  under  the  brilliant  light  of  a noonday 
sun,  is  full  of  movement  and  color.  As  soon  as  the  steamer 
has  dropped  anchor  at  the  entrance  of  the  Grand  Canal,  a 
little  fleet  of  gondolas  crowds  around  her,  and  we  are 
charmed  to  find  them  looking  exactly  as  we  expected.  As 
they  receive  the  passengers  they  dart  off  in  the  most  easy 
and  graceful  manner  possible,  their  steel  prows  flashing  in 
the  sun  and-  their  keels  tracing  a line  of  pearl  upon  the 
bright-green  water.  In  time  our  own  turn  comes,  and  as 
we  are  borne  along  the  Grand  Canal  the  attention  is  every 
moment  attracted  by  the  splendid  show  on  either  side. 
The  long  wave  which  the  prow  turns  over  is  dashed 
against  a wall  of  marble-fronted  palaces,  the  names  of 
which,  carelessly  mentioned  by  the  gondolier,  awaken 
trains  of  golden  memories  in  the  mind.  The  breadth  of 
the  “silent  highway  ” allows  the  sun  to  lie  in  broad,  rich 
masses  upon  the  imposing  gallery  of  architectural  pictures, 
and  to  produce  those  happy  accidents  of  light  and  shade 
which  the  artist  loves.  High  in  the  air  arise  the  domes 
and  spires  of  the  numerous  churches  with  which  wealth 


266 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


and  devotion  have  crowded  the  islands  of  Venice,  the  bells 
of  which  are  ever  filling  the  air  with  their  streams  of  un- 
dulating music.  Everything  is  dreamlike  and  unsubstan- 
tial— a fairy  pageant  floating  upon  the  waters ; a city  of 
cloudland  rather  than  of  the  earth.  The  gondola  itself  in 
which  the  traveller  reclines  contributes  to  weave  the  spell 
in  which  his  thoughts  and  senses  are  involved.  No  form 
of  locomotion  ever  gratifies  so  well  the  two  warring  tend- 
encies of  the  human  soul — the  love  of  movement  and  the 
love  of  repose.  There  is  no  noise,  no  fatigue,  no  danger, 
no  dust.  It  is  managed  with  such  skill  and  so  little 
apparent  effort  that  it  really  seems  to  glide  and  turn  by 
its  own  will. 

So  far,  the  picture  is  all  in  light.  But  it  is  not  without 
its  shadows.  A nearer  view  of  the  palaces  which  seem  so 
beautiful  in  the  distance  reveals  the  decaying  fortunes  of 
their  possessors.  An  indescribable  but  unmistakable  air 
of  careless  neglect  and  unresisted  dilapidation  is  every- 
where too  plainly  visible.  Indeed,  many  of  these  stately 
structures  are  occupied  as  hotels  and  lodging-houses,  their 
spacious  apartments  cut  up  by  shabby  wooden  partitions 
and  pervaded  by  an  aspect  of  tawdry  finery  and  moulder- 
ing splendor.  On  diverging  from  the  Grand  Canal  to  the 
right  or  left  a change  comes  over  the  spirit  of  the  scene. 
Instead  of  a broad  highway  of  liquid  chrysoprase,  we  find 
ourselves  upon  a narrow  and  muddy  ditch.  The  sun  is 
excluded  by  the  height  and  proximity  of  the  houses,  and 
for  the  same  reason  there  are  no  points  of  view  for  any- 
thing to  be  seen  to  advantage.  All  that  meets  the  eye 
speaks  of  discomfort,  dampness,  and  poverty.  Slime,  sea- 
weed, and  mould  cling  to  the  walls.  Water  in  small  quan- 
tities is  nothing  if  it  be  not  pure.  A fountain  in  the  gar- 
den is  beautiful,  but  the  same  quantity  of  water  lying 
stagnant  in  one’s  cellar  is  an  eyesore.  The  wave  that 
dashes  against  a ship  is  glorious^  but  when  it  creeps 
into  the  hold  through  a defective  seam  it  is  a noisome 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


267 


intruder.  Venice  wants  the  gilding  presence  of  sunshine. 
In  a long  rain  it  must  be  the  most  dispiriting  of  places. 
So  when  we  leave  the  sun  we  part  with  our  best  friend.  The 
black,  cold  shadow  under  which  the  gondola  creeps  falls 
also  upon  the  spirit.  The  ideal  Venice — the  superb  bride- 
groom of  the  sea,  clasped  by  the  jewelled  arms  of  his  en- 
amored bride — disappears,  and  we  have  only  a warmer 
Amsterdam.  The  reflection,  too,  forces  itself  upon  us 
that  Venice  at  all  times  was  a city  for  the  few  and  not 
for  the  many.  Its  nobles  were  lodged  more  royally  than 
kings,  but  the  common  people  must  always  have  been 
thrust  into  holes  close  in  summer,  cold  in  winter,  and 
damp  at  all  times. 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 

The  Last  Leaf. 

I saw  him  once  before, 

As  he  passed  by  the  door, 

And  again 

The  pavement-stones  resound 
As  he  totters  o’er  the  ground 
With  his  cane. 

They  say  that  in  his  prime, 

Ere  the  pruning-knife  of  Time 
Cut  him  down, 

Not  a better  man  was  found 
By  the  crier  on  his  round 
Through  the  town. 

But  now  he  walks  the  streets, 

And  he  looks  at  all  he  meets 


268 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Sad  and  wan, 

And  he  shakes  his  feeble  head, 
That  it  seems  as  if  he  said, 

“ They  are  gone.” 

The  mossy  marbles  rest 
On  the  lips  that  he  has  pressed 
In  their  bloom, 

And  the  names  he  loved  to  hear 
Have  been  carved  for  many  a year 
On  the  tomb. 

My  grandmamma  has  said — 

Poor  old  lady  ! she  is  dead 
Long  ago — 

That  he  had  a Roman  nose, 

And  his  cheek  was  like  a rose 
In  the  snow. 

But  now  his  nose  is  thin, 

And  it  rests  upon  his  chin 
Like  a staff, 

And  a crook  is  in  his  back, 

And  a melancholy  crack 
In  his  laugh. 

I know  it  is  a sin 
For  me  to  sit  and  grin 
At  him  here ; 

But  the  old  three-cornered  hat 
And  the  breeches,  and  all  that, 

Are  so  queer ! 

And  if  I should  live  to  be 
The  last  leaf  upon  the  tree 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES . 


269 


In  the  spring, 

Let  them  smile,  as  I do  now, 
At  the  old  forsaken  bough 
Where  I cling. 


My  Aunt. 

My  aunt ! my  dear  unmarried  aunt ! 

Long  years  have  o’er  her  flown, 

Yet  still  she  strains  the  aching  clasp 
That  binds  her  virgin  zone ; 

I know  it  hurts  her,  though  she  looks 
As  cheerful  as  she  can ; 

Her  waist  is  ampler  than  her  life, 

For  life  is  but  a span. 


My  aunt ! my  poor  deluded  aunt ! 

Her  hair  is  almost  gray ; 

Why  will  she  train  that  winter  curl 
In  such  a spring-like  way  ? 

How  can  she  lay  her  glasses  down 
And  say  she  reads  as  well, 

When  through  a double  convex  lens 
She  just  makes  out  to  spell  ? 


Her  father — grandpapa,  forgive 
This  erring  lip  its  smiles — 

Vowed  she  should  make  the  finest  girl 
Within  a hundred  miles ; 

He  sent  her  to  a stylish  school — 

’Twas  in  her  thirteenth  June — 

And  with  her,  as  the  rules  required, 
“Two  towels  and  a spoon.” 


270 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


They  braced  my  aunt  against  a board, 

To  make  her  straight  and  tall ; 

They  laced  her  up,  they  starved  her  down, 
To  make  her  light  and  small ; 

They  pinched  her  feet,  they  singed  her  hair, 
They  screwed  it  up  with  pins ; — 

Oh,  never  mortal  suffered  more 
In  penance  for  her  sins. 

So  when  my  precious  aunt  was  done, 

My  grandsire  brought  her  back 
(By  daylight,  lest  some  rabid  youth 
Might  follow  on  the  track). 

“ Ah  !”  said  my  grandsire  as  he  shook 
Some  powder  in  his  pan, 

“ What  could  this  lovely  creature  do 
Against  a desperate  man  ?” 

Alas ! nor  chariot,  nor  barouche, 

Nor  bandit  cavalcade, 

Tore  from  the  trembling  father’s  arms 
His  all-accomplished  maid. 

For  her  how  happy  had  it  been ! 

And  Heaven  had  spared  to  me 
To  see  one  sad,  ungathered  rose 
On  my  ancestral  tree. 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


271 


The  Stratford  Fountain  * 

Welcome,  thrice  welcome,  is  thy  silvery  gleam, 

Thou  long-imprisoned  stream ! 

Welcome  the  tinkle  of  thy  crystal  beads 
As  plashing  raindrops  to  the  flowery  meads, 

As  summer’s  breath  to  Avon’s  whispering  reeds ! 

From  rock-walled  channels,  drowned  in  rayless  night, 
Leap  forth  to  life  and  light ; 

Wake  from  the  darkness  of  thy  troubled  dream, 

And  greet  with  answering  smile  the  morning’s  beam  ! 


No  purer  lymph  the  white-limbed  Naiad  knows 
Than  from  thy  chalice  flows : 

Not  the  bright  spring  of  Afric’s  sunny  shores, 
Starry  with  spangles  washed  from  golden  ores, 
Nor  glassy  stream  Blandusia’s  fountain  pours, 
Nor  wave  translucent  where  Sabrina  fair 
Braids  her  loose-flowing  hair, 

Nor  the  swift  current,  stainless  as  it  rose 
Where  chill  Arveiron  steals  from  Alpine  snows. 


Here  shall  the  traveller  stay  his  weary  feet 

To  seek  thy  calm  retreat ; 

Here  at  high  noon  the  brown-armed  reapers  rest ; 

Here,  when  the  shadows,  lengthening  from  the  west, 

Call  the  mute  song-bird  to  his  leafy  nest, 

* In  1887,  Mr.  George  W.  Childs  of  Philadelphia,  known  in  two 
continents  for  his  liberality,  presented  to  the  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon, 
the  birthplace  of  Shakespeare,  a handsome  memorial  fountain.  The 
presentation  ceremonies  were  memorable.  Dr.  Holmes  wrote  and 
Henry  Irving  read  this  exquisite  poem,  which  emphasizes  in  its  final 
stanza  that  union  and  affection  which  should  for  ever  exist  between  two 
nations  bound  each  to  each  bv  such  sacred  associations  and  possessing 
mutually  so  rich  an  inheritance  of  splendid  literature. 


272 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


Matron  and  maid  shall  chat  the  cares  away 
That  brooded  o’er  the  day, 

While  flocking  round  them  troops  of  children  meet, 
And  all  the  arches  ring  with  laughter  sweet. 

Here  shall  the  steed,  his  patient  life  who  spends 
In  toil  that  never  ends, 

Hot  from  his  thirsty  tramp  o’er  hill  and  plain, 
Plunge  his  red  nostrils,  while  the  torturing  rein 
Drops  in  loose  loops  beside  his  floating  mane ; 

Nor  the  poor  brute  that  shares  his  master’s  lot 
Find  his  small  needs  forgot, — 

Truest  of  humble,  long-enduring  friends, 

Whose  presence  cheers,  whose  guardian  care  defends ! 


Here  lark  and  thrush  and  nightingale  shall  sip, 

And  skimming  swallows  dip, 

And  strange  shy  wanderers  fold  their  lustrous  plumes, 
Fragrant  from  bowers  that  lent  their  sweet  perfumes 
Where  Paestum’s  rose  or  Persia’s  lilac  blooms; 

Here  from  his  cloud  the  eagle  stoops  to  drink 
At  the  full  basin’s  brink, 

And  whet  his  beak  against  its  rounded  lip, 

His  glossy  feathers  glistening  as  they  drip. 


Here  shall  the  dreaming  poet  linger  long, 

Far  from  his  listening  throng ; 

No  lute  nor  lyre  his  trembling  hand  shall  bring; 

Here  no  frail  Muse  shall  imp  her  crippled  wing, 

No  faltering  minstrel  strain  his  throat  to  sing. 

These  hallowed  echoes  who  shall  dare  to  claim 
Whose  tuneless  voice  would  shame, 

Whose  jangling  chords  with  jarring  notes  would  wrong 
The  nymphs  that  heard  the  Swan  of  Avon’s  song  ? 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES. 


273 


What  visions  greet  the  pilgrim’s  raptured  eyes ! 

What  ghosts  made  real  rise ! 

The  dead  return ; they  breathe,  they  live  again, 

Joined  by  the  hosts  of  Fancy’s  airy  train, 

Fresh  from  the  springs  of  Shakespeare’s  quickening 
brain ! 

The  stream  that  slakes  the  soul’s  diviner  thirst 
Here  found  the  sunbeams  first ; 

Rich  with  his  fame,  not  less  shall  memory  prize 
The  gracious  gift  that  humbler  wants  supplies. 

O’er  the  wide  waters  reached  the  hand  that  gave 
To  all  this  bounteous  wave, 

With  health  and  strength  and  joyous  beauty  fraught ; 
Blest  be  the  generous  pledge  of  friendship,  brought 
From  the  far  home  of  brothers’  love  unbought ; 

Long  may  fair  Avon’s  fountain  flow,  enrolled 
With  storied  shrines  of  old, 

Castalia’s  spring,  Egeria’s  dewy  cave, 

And  Horeb’s  rock  the  God  of  Israel  clave. 

Land  of  our  fathers ! ocean  makes  us  two, 

But  heart  to  heart  is  true. 

Proud  is  your  towering  daughter  in  the  West, 

Yet  in  her  burning  lifeblood  reign  contest 
Her  mother’s  pulses  beating  in  her  breast. 

This  holy  fount,  whose  rills  from  heaven  descend, 

Its  gracious  drops  shall  lend — 

Both  foreheads  bathed  in  that  baptismal  dew, 

And  love  make  one  the  old  home  and  the  new. 

18 


4 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL, 

To  the  Dandelion. 

Dear  common  flower,  that  grow’st  beside  the  way, 
Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold, 

First  pledge  of  blithesome  May, 

Which  children  pluck,  and,  full  of  pride,  uphold, 
High-hearted  buccaneers,  o’erjoyed  that  they 
An  Eldorado  in  the  grass  have  found, 

Which  not  the  rich  earth’s  ample  round  . 

May  match  in  wealth ! thou  art  more  dear  to  me 
Than  all  the  prouder  summer  blooms  may  be. 


Gold  such  as  thine  ne’er  drew  the  Spanish  prow 
Through  the  primeval  hush  of  Indian  seas, 

Nor  wrinkled  the  lean  brow 
Of  age,  to  rob  the  lover’s  heart  of  ease ; 

’Tis  the  Spring’s  largess,  which  she  scatters  now 
To  rich  and  poor  alike  with  lavish  hand, 

Though  most  hearts  never  understand 
To  take  it  at  God’s  value,  but  pass  by 
The  offered  wealth  with  unrewarded  eye. 


Thou  art  my  tropics  and  mine  Italy ; 

To  look  at  thee  unlocks  a warmer  clime ; 

The  eyes  thou  givest  me 
Are  in  the  heart,  and  heed  not  space  or  time : 
Not  in  mid  June  the  golden-cuirass’d  bee 
Feels  a more  summer-like,  warm  ravishment 
In  the  white  lily’s  breezy  tent, 

His  fragrant  Sybaris,  than  I when  first 
From  the  dark  green  thy  yellow  circles  burst. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL . 


275 


Then  think  I of  deep  shadows  on  the  grass, 

Of  meadows  where  in  sun  the  cattle  graze, 

Where,  as  the  breezes  pass, 

The  gleaming  rushes  lean  a thousand  ways— 

Of  leaves  that  slumber  in  a cloudy  mass 
Or  whiten  in  the  wind— of  waters  blue 
That  from  the  distance  sparkle  through 
Some  woodland  gap — and  of  a sky  above 
Where  one  white  cloud  like  a stray  lamb  doth  move. 

My  childhood’s  earliest  thoughts  are  linked  with  thee  ; 
The  sight  of  thee  calls  back  the  robin’s  song, 

Who  from  the  dark  old  tree 
Beside  the  door  sang  clearly  all  day  long, 

And  I,  secure  in  childish  piety, 

Listened  as  if  I heard  an  angel  sing 
With  news  from  heaven,  which  he  did  bring 
Fresh  every  day  to  my  untainted  ears, 

When  birds  and  flowers  and  I were  happy  peers. 

Thou  art  the  type  of  those  meek  charities 
Which  make  up  half  the  nobleness  of  life, 

Those  cheap  delights  the  wise 
Pluck  from  the  dusty  wayside  of  earth’s  strife — 
Words  of  frank  cheer,  glances  of  friendly  eyes, 

Love’s  smallest  coin,  which  yet  to  some  may  give 
The  morsel  that  may  keep  alive 
A starving  heart,  and  teach  it  to  behold 
Some  glimpse  of  God  where  all  before  was  cold. 

Thy  winged  seeds,  whereof  the  winds  take  care, 

Are  like  the  words  of  poet  and  of  sage, 

Which  through  the  free  heaven  fare, 

And,  now  unheeded,  in  another  age 
Take  root,  and  to  the  gladdened  future  bear 


276 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


That  witness  which  the  present  would  not  heed, 
Bringing  forth  many  a thought  and  deed, 

And,  planted  safely  in  the  eternal  sky, 

Bloom  into  stars  which  earth  is  guided  by. 

Full  of  deep  love  thou  art,  yet  not  more  full 
Than  all  thy  common  brethren  of  the  ground, 
Wherein,  were  we  not  dull, 

Some  words  of  highest  wisdom  might  be  found. 

Yet  earnest  faith  from  day  to  day  may  cull 
Some  syllables,  which,  rightly  joined,  can  make 
A spell  to  soothe  life’s  bitterest  ache, 

And  ope  heaven’s  portals,  which  are  near  us  still — 
Yea,  nearer  ever  than  the  gates  of  ill. 

How  like  a prodigal  doth  Nature  seem 
When  thou,  for  all  thy  gold,  so  common  art ! 

Thou  teachest  me  to  deem 
More  sacredly  of  every  human  heart, 

Since  each  reflects  in  joy  its  scanty  gleam 
Of  heaven,  and  could  some  wondrous  secret  show 
Did  we  but  pay  the  love  we  owe, 

And  with  a child’s  undoubting  wisdom  look 
On  all  these  living  pages  of  God’s  book. 

But  let  me  read  thy  lesson  right  or  no, 

Of  one  good  gift  from  thee  my  heart  is  sure : 

Old  I shall  never  grow 

While  thou  each  year  dost  come  to  keep  me  pure 
With  legends  of  my  childhood.  Ah,  we  owe 
Well  more  than  half  life’s  holiness  to  these 
Nature’s  first  lowly  influences, 

At  thought  of  which  the  heart’s  glad  doors  burst  ope, 
In  dreariest  days,  to  welcome  peace  and  hope. 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 


277 


The  Gothic  Genius. 

[From  The  Cathedral .] 

I seem  to  have  heard  it  said  by  learned  folk, 
Who  drench  you  with  sesthetics  till  you  feel 
As  if  all  beauty  were  a ghastly  bore, 

The  faucet  to  let  loose  a wash  of  words, 

That  Gothic  is  not  Grecian,  therefore  worse ; 
But,  being  convinced  by  much  experiment 
How  little  inventiveness  there  is  in  man, 
Grave  copier  of  copies,  I give  thanks 
For  a new  relish,  careless  to  inquire 
My  pleasure’s  pedigree,  if  so  it  please — 

Nobly  I mean,  nor  renegade  to  art. 

The  Grecian  gluts  me  with  its  perfectness, 
Unanswerable  as  Euclid,  self-contained, 

The  one  thing  finished  in  this  hasty  world  — 
For  ever  finished,  though  the  barbarous  pit, 
Fanatical  on  hearsay,  stamp  and  shout 
As  if  a miracle  could  be  encored. 

But  ah  ! this  other,  this  that  never  ends, 

Still  climbing,  luring  Fancy  still  to  climb, 

As  full  of  morals  half  divined  as  life, 

Graceful,  grotesque,  with  ever-new  surprise 
Of  hazardous  caprices  sure  to  please ; 

Heavy  as  nightmare,  airy-light  as  fern, 
Imagination’s  very  self  in  stone ! 

With  one  long  sigh  of  infinite  release 
From  pedantries  past,  present,  or  to  come, 

I looked,  and  owned  myself  a happy  Goth. 
Your  blood  is  mine,  ye  architects  of  dream, 
Builders  of  aspiration  incomplete, 

So  more  consummate,  souls  self-confident, 
Who  felt  your  own  thought  worthy  of  record 
In  monumental  pomp ! No  Grecian  drop 


• 278 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


Rebukes  these  veins  that  leap  with  kindred  thrill, 
After  long  exile,  to  the  mother  tongue. 

Lines  on  a Window  in  St.  Margaret’s 
Church,  Westminster. 

The  New  World’s  sons,  from  England’s  breast  we  drew 
Such  milk  as  bids  remember  whence  we  came ; 

Proud  of  her  past,  from  which  our  future  grew, 

This  window  we  inscribe  with  Raleigh’s  name. 

On  a Certain  Condescension  in  Foreigners. 

[From  My  Study - Windows.] 

So  long  as  we  continue  to  be  the  most  common-schooled 
and  the  least  cultivated  people  in  the  world,  I suppose  we 
must  consent  to  endure  this  condescending  manner  of 
foreigners  toward  us.  The  more  friendly  they  mean  to  be, 
the  more  ludicrously  prominent  it  becomes.  They  can 
never  appreciate  the  immense  amount  of  silent  work  that 
has  been  done  here,  making  this  continent  slowly  fit  for 
the  abode  of  man,  and  which  will  demonstrate  itself,  let  us 
hope,  in  the  character  of  the  people.  Outsiders  can  only 
be  expected  to  judge  a nation  by  the  amount  it  has  con- 
tributed to  the  civilization  of  the  world — the  amount,  that 
is,  that  can  be  seen  and  handled.  A great  place  in  history 
can  only  be  achieved  by  competitive  examinations — nay, 
by  a long  course  of  them.  How  much  new  thought  have 
we  contributed  to  the  common  stock  ? Till  that  question 
can  be  triumphantly  answered  or  needs  no  answer,  we 
must  continue  to  be  simply  interesting  as  an  experiment, 
to  be  studied  as  a problem,  and  not  respected  as  an  attained 
result  or  an  accomplished  solution.  Perhaps,  as  I have 
hinted,  their  patronizing  manner  toward  us  is  the  fair  result 
of  their  failing  to  see  here  anything  more  than  a poor  imita- 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL . 


279 


tion,  a plaster  cast,  of  Europe.  And  are  they  not  partly 
right  ? If  the  tone  of  the  uncultivated  American  has  too 
often  the  arrogance  of  the  barbarian,  is  not  that  of  the  cul- 
tivated as  often  vulgarly  apologetic?  In  the  America  they 
meet  with  is  there  the  simplicity,  the  manliness,  the  ab- 
sence of  sham,  the  sincere  human  nature,  the  sensitiveness 
to  duty  and  implied  obligation,  that  in  any  way  distin- 
guishes us  from  what  our  orators  call  “ the  effete  civiliza- 
tion of  the  Old  World  ”?  Is  there  a politician  among  us 
daring  enough  (except  a Dana  here  and  there)  to  risk  his 
future  on  the  chance  of  our  keeping  our  word  with  the  ex- 
actness of  superstitious  communities  like  England  ? Is  it 
certain  that  we  shall  be  ashamed  of  a bankruptcy  of  honor 
if  we  can  only  keep  the  letter  of  our  bond  ? I hope  we 
shall  be  able  to  answer  all  these  questions  with  a frank 
“ Yes.”  At  any  rate,  we  would  advise  our  visitors  that  we 
are  not  merely  curious  creatures,  but  belong  to  the  family 
of  man,  and  that  as  individuals  we  are  not  to  be  always 
subjected  to  the  competitive  examination  above  mentioned, 
even  if  we  acknowledge  their  competence  as  an  examining 
board.  Above  all,  we  beg  them  to  remember  that  America 
is  not  to  us,  as  to  them,  a mere  object  of  external  interest 
to  be  discussed  and  analyzed,  but  in  us,  part  of  our  very 
marrow.  Let  them  not  suppose  that  we  conceive  of  our- 
selves as  exiles  from  the  graces  and  amenities  of  an  older 
date  than  we,  though  very  much  at  home  in  a state  of 
things  not  yet  all  it  might  be  or  should  be,  but  which  we 
mean  to  make  so,  and  which  we  find  both  wholesome  and 
pleasant  for  men  (though  perhaps  not  for  dilettanti)  to  live 
in.  “ The  full  tide  of  human  existence  ” may  be  felt  here 
as  keenly  as  Johnson  felt  it  at  Charing  Cross,  and  in  a 
larger  sense.  I know  one  person  who  is  singular  enough 
to  think  Cambridge  the  very  best  spot  on  the  habitable 
globe.  “ Doubtless  God  could  have  made  a better,  but 
doubtless  he  never  did.” 

It  will  take  England  a great  while  to  get  over  her  airs 


280 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


of  patronage  toward  us,  or  even  passably  to  conceal  them. 
She  cannot  help  confounding  the  people  with  the  country, 
and  regarding  us  as  lusty  juveniles.  She  has  a conviction 
that  whatever  good  there  is  in  us  is  wholly  English,  when 
the  truth  is  that  we  are  worth  nothing  except  so  far  as  we 
have  disinfected  ourselves  of  Anglicism.  She  is  especially 
condescending  just  now,  and  lavishes  sugar-plums  on  us 
as  if  we  had  not  outgrown  them.  I am  no  believer  in 
sudden  conversions,  especially  in  sudden  conversions  to  a 
favorable  opinion  of  people  who  have  just  proved  you  to 
be  mistaken  in  judgment  and  therefore  unwise  in  policy. 
I never  blamed  her  for  not  wishing  well  to  democracy — 
how  should  she  ? — but  Alabamas  are  not  wishes.  Let  her 
not  be  too  hasty  in  believing  Mr.  Reverdy  Johnson’s  pleas- 
ant words.  Though  there  is  no  thoughtful  man  in  America 
who  would  not  consider  a war  with  England  the  greatest 
of  calamities,  yet  the  feeling  toward  her  here  is  very  far 
from  cordial,  whatever  our  minister  may  say  in  the  effu- 
sion that  comes  after  ample  dining.  Mr.  Adams,  with  his 
famous  a My  Lord,  this  means  war,”  perfectly  represented 
his  country.  Justly  or  not,  w^e  have  a feeling  that  we  have 
been  wronged,  not  merely  insulted.  The  only  sure  way 
of  bringing  about  a healthy  relation  between  the  two  coun- 
tries is  for  Englishmen  to  clear  their  minds  of  the  notion 
that  we  are  always  to  be  treated  as  a kind  of  inferior 
and  deported  Englishman  whose  nature  they  perfectly 
understand,  and  whose  back  they  accordingly  stroke  the 
wrong  way  of  the  fur  with  amazing  perseverance.  Let 
them  learn  to  treat  us  naturally  on  our  merits  as  human 
beings,  as  they  would  a German  or  a Frenchman,  and  not 
as  if  we  were  a kind  of  counterfeit  Briton  whose  crime 
appeared  in  every  shade  of  difference ; and  before  long 
there  would  come  that  right  feeling  which  we  naturally 
call  a good  understanding. 

The  common  blood,  and  still  more  the  common  lan- 
guage, are  fatal  instruments  of  misapprehension.  Let 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 


2S1 


them  give  up  trying  to  understand  us — still  more,  think- 
ing that  they  do — and  acting  in  various  absurd  ways  as 
the  necessary  consequence;  for  they  will  never  arrive  at 
that  devoutly-to-be-wished  consummation  till  they  learn 
to  look  at  us  as  we  are,  and  not  as  they  suppose  us  to  be. 

Dear  old  long-estranged  mother-in-law  ! it  is  a great 
many  years  since  we  parted.  Since  1660,  when  you 
married  again,  you  have  been  a stepmother  to  us.  Put 
on  your  spectacles,  dear  madam.  Yes,  we  have  grown, 
and  changed  likewise.  You  would  not  let  us  darken 
your  doors  if  you  could  help  it.  We  know  that  perfectly 
well.  But,  pray,  when  we  look  to  be  treated  as  men, 
don’t  shake  that  rattle  in  our  faces  nor  talk  baby  to  us 
any  longer. 

“Do,  child,  go  to  it  grandam,  child; 

Give  grandam  kingdom,  and  it  grandam  will 
Give  it  a plum,  a cherry,  and  a tig  1” 

Classical  Education. 

[From  the  oration  on  the  two-hundred-and-fiftieth  anniversary  of  Har- 
vard College.] 

One  is  sometimes  tempted  to  think  that  all  learning  is 
as  repulsive  to  ingenuous  youth  as  the  multiplication  table 
to  Scott’s  little  friend  Marjorie  Fleming,  though  this  is  due 
in  great  part  to  mechanical  methods  of  teaching.  “ I am 
now  going  to  tell  you,”  she  writes,  “ the  horrible  and 
wretched  plaege  that  my  multiplication  table  gives  me: 
you  can’t  conceive  it;  the  most  Devilish  thing  is  eight 
times  eight  and  seven  times  seven  ; it  is  what  Nature  itself 
can’t  endure.”  I know  that  I am  approaching  treacherous 
ashes  which  cover  burning  coals,  but  I must  on. 

Is  not  Greek — nay,  even  Latin — yet  more  unendurable 
than  poor  Marjorie’s  task?  How  many  boys  have  not 
sympathized  with  Heine  in  hating  the  Romans  because 


282 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


they  invented  Latin  grammar?  And  they  were  quite 
right,  for  we  begin  the  study  of  languages  at  the  wrong 
end — at  the  end  which  Nature  does  not  offer  us — and  are 
thoroughly  tired  of  them  before  we  arrive  at  them,  if  you 
will  pardon  the  bull.  But  is  that  any  reason  for  not 
studying  them  in  the  right  way  ? I am  familiar  with  the 
arguments  for  making  the  study  of  Greek  especially  a 
matter  of  choice  or  chance. 

I admit  their  plausibility,  and  the  honesty  of  those  who 
urge  them.  I should  be  willing  also  to  admit  that  the 
study  of  the  ancient  languages  without  the  hope  or  the 
prospect  of  going  on  to  what  they  contain  would  be  useful 
only  as  a form  of  intellectual  gymnastics.  Even  so  they 
would  be  as  serviceable  as  the  higher  mathematics  to  most 
of  us.  But  I think  that  a wise  teacher  should  adapt  his 
tasks  to  the  highest,  and  not  the  lowest,  capacities  of  the 
taught.  For  those  lower  also  they  would  not  be  wholly 
without  profit.  When  there  is  a tedious  sermon,  says 
George  Herbert,  God  takes  a text  and  teacheth  patience 
— not  the  least  pregnant  of  lessons.  One  of  the  arguments 
against  the  compulsory  study  of  Greek — namely,  that  it 
is  wiser  to  give  our  time  to  modern  languages  and  modern 
history  than  to  dead  languages  and  ancient  history — in- 
volves, I think,  a verbal  fallacy.  Only  those  languages 
can  properly  be  called  dead  in  which  nothing  living  has 
been  written.  If  the  classic  languages  are  dead,  they  yet 
speak  to  us,  and  with  a clearer  voice  than  that  of  any 
living  tongue. 

Graiis  ingenium,  Graiis  dedit  ore  rotundo 

Musa  loqui,  praeter  laudem  nullius  avaris. 

If  their  language  is  dead,  yet  the  literature  it  enshrines 
is  rammed  with  life  as  perhaps  no  other  writing,  except 
Shakespeare’s,  ever  was  or  will  be.  It  is  as  contemporary 
with  to-day  as  with  the  ears  it  first  enraptured,  for  it 
appeals  not  to  the  man  of  then  or  now,  but  to  the  entire 


JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL . 


283 


round  of  human  nature  itself.  Men  are  ephemeral  or 
evanescent,  but  whatever  page  the  authentic  soul  of  man 
has  touched  with  her  immortalizing  finger,  no  matter  how 
long  ago,  is  still  young  and  fair  as  it  was  to  the  world’s 
gray  fathers.  Oblivion  looks  in  the  face  of  the  Grecian 
Muse  only  to  forget  her  errand.  Plato  and  Aristotle  are 
not  names,  but  things.  On  a chart  that  should  represent 
the  firm  earth  and  wavering  oceans  of  the  human  mind, 
they  would  be  marked  as  mountain-ranges,  for  ever  mod- 
ifying the  temperature,  the  currents,  and  the  atmosphere 
of  thought — astronomical  stations  whence  the  move- 
ments of  the  lamps  of  heaven  might  best  be  observed 
and  predicted.  Even  for  the  mastering  of  our  own 
tongue  there  is  no  expedient  so  fruitful  as  translation 
out  of  another:  how  much  more  when  that  other  is  a 
language  at  once  so  precise  and  so  flexible  as  the  Greek ! 
Greek  literature  is  also  the  most  fruitful  comment  on  our 
own. 

Coleridge  has  told  us  with  what  profit  he  was  made  to 
study  Shakespeare  and  Milton  in  conjunction  with  the 
Greek  dramatists.  It  is  no  sentimental  argument  for  this 
study  that  the  most  justly  balanced,  the  most  serene,  and 
the  most  fecundating  minds  since  the  revival  of  learning 
have  been  steeped  in  and  saturated  with  Greek  literature. 
We  know  not  whither  other  studies  will  lead  us,  especially 
if  dissociated  from  this  : we  do  know  to  what  summits  far 
above  our  region  of  turmoil  this  has  led,  and  what  the 
many-sided  outlook  thence.  Will  such  studies  make 
anachronisms  of  us,  unfit  us  for  the  duties  and  the  busi- 
ness of  to-day  ? I can  recall  no  writer  more  truly  modern 
than  Montaigne,  who  was  almost  more  at  home  in  Athens 
and  Rome  than  in  Paris.  Yet  he  was  a thrifty  manager 
of  his  estate  and  a most  competent  mayor  of  Bordeaux. 
I remember  passing  once  in  London  where  demolition 
for  a new  thoroughfare  was  going  on.  Many  houses  left 
standing  in  the  rear  of  those  cleared  away  bore  signs  with 


284 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


the  inscription  “ Ancient  Lights.”  This  was  the  protest 
of  their  owners  against  being  built  out  by  the  new  im- 
provements from  such  glimpse  of  heaven  as  their  fathers 
had,  without  adequate  equivalent.  I laid  the  moral  to 
heart. 


JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY. 

The  Fall  of  Antwerp. 

[From  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic.'] 

Meantime,  the  Spanish  cavalry  had  cleft  its  way  through 
the  city.  On  the  side  farthest  removed  from  the  castle, 
along  the  horse-market,  opposite  the  New-town,  the  States 
dragoons  and  the  light-horse  of  Beveren  had  been  posted, 
and  the  flying  masses  of  pursuers  and  pursued  swept  at 
last  through  this  outer  circle.  Champagny  was  already 
there.  He  essayed,  as  his  last  hope,  to  rally  the  cavalry 
for  a final  stand,  but  the  effort  was  fruitless.  Already 
seized  by  the  panic,  they  had  attempted  to  rush  from  the 
city  through  the  gate  of  Eeker.  It  was  locked ; they  then 
turned  and  fled  toward  the  Red  Gate,  where  they  were  met 
face  to  face  by  Don  Pedro  Tassis,  who  charged  upon  them 
with  his  dragoons.  Retreat  seemed  hopeless.  A horse- 
man in  complete  armor,  with  lance  in  rest,  was  seen  to 
leap  from  the  parapet  of  the  outer  wall  into  the  moat 
below,  whence,  still  on  horseback,  he  escaped  with  life. 
Few  were  so  fortunate.  The  confused  mob  of  fugitives 
and  conquerors — Spaniards,  Walloons,  Germans,  burgh- 
ers— struggling,  shouting,  striking,  cursing,  dying,  swayed 
hither  and  thither  like  a stormy  sea.  Along  the  spacious 
horse-market  the  fugitives  fled  onward  toward  the  quays. 
Many  fell  beneath  the  swords  of  the  Spaniards,  numbers 
were  trodden  to  death  by  the  hoofs  of  horses,  still  greater 


JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY. 


285 


multitudes  were  hunted  into  the  Scheld.  Champagny, 
who  had  thought  it  possible,  even  at  the  last  moment, 
to  make  a stand  in  the  New-town  and  to  fortify  the  palace 
of  the  Hansa,  saw  himself  deserted.  With  great  daring 
and  presence  of  mind  he  effected  his  escape  to  the  fleet  of 
the  prince  of  Orange  in  the  river.  The  marquis  of  Havre, 
of  whom  no  deeds  of  valor  on  that  eventful  day  have  been 
recorded,  was  equally  successful.  The  unlucky  Oberstein, 
attempting  to  leap  into  a boat,  missed  his  footing,  and, 
oppressed  by  the  weight  of  his  armor,  was  drowned. 

Meantime,  while  the  short  November  day  was  fast 
declining,  the  combat  still  raged  in  the  interior  of  the 
city.  Various  currents  of  conflict,  forcing  their  separate 
way  through  many  streets,  had  at  last  mingled  in  the 
Grande  Place.  Around  this  irregular,  not  very  spacious 
square  stood  the  gorgous  hotel  de  ville  and  the  tall,  many- 
storied,  fantastically-gabled,  richly-decorated  palaces  of  the 
guilds.  There  a long  struggle  took  place.  It  was  termi- 
nated for  a time  by  the  cavalry  of  Vargas,  who,  arriving 
through  the  streets  of  Saint  Joris,  accompanied  by  the 
traitor  Van  Ende,  charged  decisively  into  the  melee. 
The  masses  were  broken,  but  multitudes  of  armed  men 
found  refuge  in  the  buildings,  and  every  house  became  a 
fortress.  From  every  window  and  balcony  a hot  fire  was 
poured  into  the  square,  as,  pent  in  a corner,  the  burghers 
stood  at  last  at  bay.  It  was  difficult  to  carry  the  houses 
by  storm,  but  they  were  soon  set  on  fire.  A large  number 
of  sutlers  and  other  varlets  had  accompanied  the  Spaniards 
from  the  citadel,  bringing  torches  and  kindling  materials 
for  the  express  purpose  of  firing  the  town.  With  great 
dexterity  these  means  were  now  applied,  and  in  a brief 
interval  the  city-hall  and  other  edifices  on  the  square  were 
in  flames.  The  conflagration  spread  with  rapidity,  house 
after  house,  street  after  street,  taking  fire.  Nearly  a thou- 
sand buildings  in  the  most  splendid  and  wealthy  quarter 
of  the  city  were  soon  in  a blaze,  and  multitudes  of  human 


286 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


beings  were  burned  with  them.  In  the  city-hall  many 
were  consumed,  while  others  leaped  from  the  windows  to 
renew  the  combat  below.  The  many  tortuous  streets 
which  led  down  a slight  descent  from  the  rear  of  the 
town-house  to  the  quays  were  all  one  vast  conflagra- 
tion. On  the  other  side  the  magnificent  cathedral,  sep- 
arated from  the  Grande  Place  by  a single  row  of  build- 
ings, was  lighted  up,  but  not  attacked,  by  the  flames. 
The  tall  spire  cast  its  gigantic  shadow  across  the  last 
desperate  conflict.  In  the  street  called  the  Canal  au 
Sucre,  immediately  behind  the  town-house,  there  was  a 
fierce  struggle,  a horrible  massacre.  A crowd  of  burgh- 
ers, grave  magistrates,  and  such  of  the  German  soldiers 
as  remained  alive  still  confronted  the  ferocious  Spaniards. 
There,  amid  the  flaming  desolation,  Goswyn  Verreyck,  the 
heroic  margrave  of  the  city,  fought  with  the  energy  of 
hatred  and  despair.  The  burgomaster,  Van  der  Meere,  lay 
dead  at  his  feet : senators,  soldiers,  citizens  fell  fast  around 
him,  and  he  sank  at  last  upon  a heap  of  slain.  With  him 
effectual  resistance  ended.  The  remaining  combatants  were 
butchered  or  were  slowly  forced  downward  to  perish  in  the 
Scheld.  Women,  children,  old  men,  were  killed  in  count- 
less numbers,  and  still,  through  all  this  havoc,  directly  over 
the  heads  of  the  struggling  throng,  suspended  in  mid-air 
above  the  din  and  smoke  of  the  conflict,  there  sounded^ 
every  half-quarter  of  every  hour,  as  if  in  gentle  mockery, 
from  the  belfry  of  the  cathedral  the  tender  and  melodious 
chimes. 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 


287 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 

The  Cask  of  Amontillado. 

[From  The  Prose  Tales .] 

The  thousand  injuries  of  Fortunato  I had  borne  as  I 
best  could,  but  when  he  ventured  upon  insult  I vowed 
revenge.  You,  who  so  well  know  the  nature  of  my  soul, 
will  not  suppose,  however,  that  I gave  utterance  to  a 
threat.  At  length  I would  be  avenged;  this  was  a point 
definitely  settled,  but  the  very  definiteness  with  which  it 
was  resolved  precluded  the  idea  of  risk.  I must  not  only 
punish,  but  punish  with  impunity.  A wrong  is  unre- 
dressed when  retribution  overtakes  its  redresser.  It  is 
equally  unredressed  when  the  avenger  fails  to  make 
himself  felt  as  such  to  him  who  has  done  the  wrong. 

It  must  be  understood  that  neither  by  word  nor  deed 
had  I given  Fortunato  cause  to  doubt  my  good-will.  I 
continued,  as  was  my  wont,  to  smile  in  his  face,  and  he 
did  not  perceive  that  my  smile  now  was  at  the  thought 
of  his  immolation. 

He  had  a weak  point,  this  Fortunato,  although  in  other 
regards  he  was  a man  to  be  respected  and  even  feared. 
He  prided  himself  on  his  connoisseurship  in  wine.  Few 
Italians  have  the  true  virtuoso  spirit.  For  the  most  part 
their  enthusiasm  is  adopted  to  suit  the  time  and  oppor- 
tunity— to  practise  imposture  upon  the  British  and  Aus- 
trian millionaires.  In  painting  and  gemmary  Fortunato, 
like  his  countrymen,  was  a quack,  but  in  the  matter  of 
old  wines  he  was  sincere.  In  this  respect  I did  not  differ 
from  him  materially : I was  skilful  in  the  Italian  vintages 
myself,  and  bought  largely  whenever  I could. 

It  was  about  dusk  one  evening  during  the  supreme  mad- 
ness of  the  carnival  season  that  I encountered  my  friend. 
He  accosted  me  with  excessive  warmth,  for  he  had  been 


288 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


drinking  much.  The  man  wore  motley.  He  had  on  a 
tight-fitting  parti-striped  dress,  and  his  head  was  surmounted 
by  the  conical  cap  and  bells.  I was  so  pleased  to  see  him 
that  I thought  I should  never  have  done  wringing  his 
hand. 

I said  to  him,  “My  dear  Fortunato,  you  are  luckily 
met.  How  remarkably  well  you  are  looking  to-day  ! But 
I have  received  a pipe  of  what  passes  for  amontillado,  and 
I have  my  doubts.” 

“ How  !”  said  he,  “ amontillado  ? A pipe  ? Impossible! 
And  in  the  middle  of  the  carnival !” 

“ I have  my  doubts,”  I replied ; “ and  I was  silly  enough 
to  pay  the  full  amontillado  price  without  consulting  you 
in  the  matter.  You  were  not  to  be  found,  and  I was  fear- 
ful of  losing  a bargain.” 

“ Amontillado !” 

“ I have  my  doubts.” 

“ Amontillado !” 

“ And  I must  satisfy  them.” 

“ Amontillado !” 

“ As  you  are  engaged,  I am  on  my  way  to  Luchesi.  If 
any  one  has  a critical  turn,  it  is  he.  He  will  tell  me — ” 

“ Luchesi  cannot  tell  amontillado  from  sherry.” 

“ And  yet  some  fools  will  have  it  that  his  taste  is  a match 
for  your  own.” 

“ Come,  let  us  go.” 

“ Whither?” 

“ To  your  vaults.” 

“ My  friend,  no ; I will  not  impose  upon  your  good- 
nature. I perceive  you  have  an  engagement.  Luchesi — ” 
“ I have  no  engagement — come.” 

“ My  friend,  no.  It  is  not  the  engagement,  but  the 
severe  cold  with  which  I perceive  you  are  afflicted.  The 
vaults  are  insufferably  damp.  They  are  encrusted  with 
nitre.” 

“ Let  us  go,  nevertheless.  The  cold  is  merely  nothing. 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 


289 


Amontillado!  You  have  been  imposed  upon.  And  as  for 
Luchesi,  he  cannot  distinguish  sherry  from  amontillado.” 

Thus  speaking,  Fortunato  possessed  himself  of  my  arm. 
Putting  on  a mask  of  black  silk  and  drawing  a roquelaire 
closely  about  my  person,  I suffered  him  to  hurry  me  to  my 
palazzo. 

There  were  no  attendants  at  home ; they  had  absconded 
to  make  merry  in  honor  of  the  time.  I had  told  them  that 
I should  not  return  until  the  morning,  and  had  given  them 
explicit  orders  not  to  stir  from  the  house.  These  orders 
were  sufficient,  I well  knew,  to  ensure  their  immediate  dis- 
appearance, one  and  all,  as  soon  as  my  back  was  turned. 

I took  from  their  sconces  two  flambeaux,  and,  giving 
one  to  Fortunato,  bowed  him  through  several  suites  of 
rooms  to  the  archway  that  led  into  the  vaults.  I passed 
down  a long  and  winding  staircase,  requesting  him  to  be 
cautious  as  he  followed.  AVe  came  at  length  to  the  foot 
of  the  descent,  and  stood  together  on  the  damp  ground  of 
the  catacombs  of  the  Montresors. 

The  gait  of  my  friend  was  unsteady,  and  the  bells  upon 
his  cap  jingled  as  he  strode. 

“ The  pipe  ?”  said  he. 

“ It  is  farther  on,”  said  I ; “ but  observe  the  white  web- 
work  which  gleams  from  these  cavern  walls.” 

He  turned  toward  me,  and  looked  into  my  eyes  with  two 
filmy  orbs  that  distilled  the  rheum  of  intoxication. 

“ Nitre  ?”  he  asked  at  length. 

u Nitre,”  I replied.  “How  long  have  you  had  that 
cough  ?” 

“ Ugh ! ugh  ! ugh  ! — ugh ! ugh  ! ugh  ! — ugh  ! ugh  ! ugh  ! 
ugh ! ugh  ! — ugh ! ugh ! ugh !” 

My  poor  friend  found  it  impossible  to  reply  for  many 
minutes. 

“ It  is  nothing,”  he  said,  at  last. 

“ Come,”  I said,  with  decision,  “ we  will  go  back  ; your 
health  is  precious.  You  are  rich,  respected,  admired,  be- 

19 


290 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


loved;  you  are  happy,  as  once  I was.  You  are  a man  to 
be  missed.  For  me  it  is  no  matter.  We  will  go  back; 
you  will  be  ill,  and  I cannot  be  responsible.  Besides, 
there  is  Luchesi— ” 

“Enough!”  he  said;  “the  cough  is  a mere  nothing;  it 
will  not  kill  me.  I shall  not  die  of  a cough.” 

“ True,  true,”  I replied ; “ and,  indeed,  I had  no  inten- 
tion of  alarming  you-  unnecessarily,  but  you  should  use 
all  proper  caution.  A draught  of  this  medoc  will  defend 
us  from  the  damps.” 

Here  I knocked  off  the  neck  of  a bottle  which  I drew 
from  a long  row  of  its  fellows  that  lay  upon  the  mould. 

“ Drink,”  I said,  presenting  him  the  wine. 

He  raised  it  to  his  lips  with  a leer.  He  paused  and 
nodded  to  me  familiarly,  while  his  bells  jingled. 

“ I drink,”  he  said,  “ to  the  buried  that  repose  around 
us.” 

“ And  I to  your  long  life.” 

He  again  took  my  arm,  and  we  proceeded. 

“ These  vaults,”  he  said,  “ are  extensive.” 

“ The  Montresors,”  I replied,  “ were  a great  and  numer- 
ous family.” 

“ I forget  your  arms.” 

“A  huge  human  foot  d’or,  in  a field  azure;  the  foot 
crushes  a serpent  rampant  whose  fangs  are  imbedded  in 
the  heel.” 

“ And  the  motto.” 

“ Nemo  me  impune  lacessit .” 

“ Good !”  he  said. 

The  wine  sparkled  in  his  eyes  and  the  bells  jingled.  My 
own  fancy  grew  warm  with  the  medoc.  We  had  passed 
through  walls  of  piled  bones,  with  casks  and  puncheons 
intermingling,  into  the  inmost  recesses  of  the  catacombs. 
I paused  again,  and  this  time  I made  bold  to  seize  For- 
tunato  by  an  arm  above  the  elbow. 

“The  nitre!”  I said;  “see,  it  increases.  It  hangs  like 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE . 


291 


moss  upon  the  vaults.  We  are  below  the  river’s  bed.  The 
drops  of  moisture  trickle  among  the  bones.  Come,  we  will 
go  back  ere  it  is  too  late.  Your  cough — ” 

“ It  is  nothing,”  he  said ; “ let  us  go  on.  But  first,  an- 
other  draught  of  the  medoc.” 

I broke  and  reached  him  a flagon  of  De  Grave.  He 
emptied  it  at  a breath.  His  eyes  flashed  with  a fierce 
light.  He  laughed  and  threw  the  bottle  upward  with  a 
gesticulation  I did  not  understand. 

I looked  at  him  in  surprise.  He  repeated  the  move- 
ment— a grotesque  one. 

“ You  do  not  comprehend?”  he  said. 

“ Not  I,”  I replied. 

“ Then  you  are  not  of  the  brotherhood.” 

“ How  ?” 

“ You  are  not  of  the  Masons.” 

“ Yes,  yes,”  I said — “ yes,  yes.” 

“ You?  Impossible  ! A Mason?” 

“ A Mason,”  I replied. 

“ A sign,”  he  said. 

“ It  is  this,”  I answered,  producing  a trowel  from  beneath 
the  folds  of  my  roquelaire. 

“You  jest,”  he  exclaimed,  recoiling  a few  paces.  “ But 
let  us  proceed  to  the  amontillado.” 

“ Be  it  so,”  I said,  replacing  the  tool  beneath  the  cloak 
and  again  offering  him  my  arm.  He  leaned  upon  it  heav- 
ily. We  continued  our  route  in  search  of  the  amontillado. 
We  passed  through  a range  of  low  arches,  descended,  passed 
on,  and,  descending  again,  arrived  at  a deep  crypt,  in  wThich 
the  foulness  of  the  air  caused  our  flambeaux  rather  to  glow 
than  flame. 

At  the  most  remote  end  of  the  crypt  there  appeared 
another  less  spacious.  Its  walls  had  been  lined  with 
human  remains,  piled  to  the  vault  overhead  in  the 
fashion  of  the  great  catacombs  of  Paris.  Three  sides 
of  this  interior  crypt  were  still  ornamented  in  this 


292 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


manner.  From  the  fourth  the  bones  had  been  thrown 
down,  and  lay  promiscuously  upon  the  earth,  forming 
at  one  point  a mound  of  some  size.  Within  the  walls 
thus  exposed  by  the  displacing  of  the  bones  we  per- 
ceived a still  interior  recess,  in  depth  about  four  feet, 
in  width  three,  in  height  six  or  seven.  It  seemed  to 
have  been  constructed  for  no  especial  use  within  itself, 
but  formed  merely  the  interval  between  two  of  the 
colossal  supports  of  the  roof  of  the  catacombs,  and  was 
backed  by  one  of  their  circumscribing  walls  of  solid 
granite. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Fortunato,  uplifting  his  dull  torch, 
endeavored  to  pry  into  the  depth  of  the  recess.  Its  ter- 
mination the  feeble  light  did  not  enable  us  to  see. 

“ Proceed/’  I said ; “ herein  is  the  amontillado.  As  for 
Luchesi — ” 

“ He  is  an  ignoramus,”  interrupted  my  friend  as  he 
stepped  unsteadily  forward,  while  I followed  immedi- 
ately at  his  heels.  In  an  instant  he  had  reached  the 
extremity  of  the  niche,  and,  finding  his  progress  ar- 
rested by  the  rock,  stood  stupidly  bewildered.  A 
moment  more  and  I had  fettered  him  to  the  granite. 
In  its  surface  were  two  iron  staples,  distant  from  each 
other  about  two  feet  horizontally.  From  one  of  these 
depended  a short  chain,  from  the  other  a padlock. 
Throwing  the  links  about  his  waist,  it  was  but  the 
work  of  a few  seconds  to  secure  it.  He  was  too  much 
astounded  to  resist.  Withdrawing  the  key,  I stepped 
back  from  the  recess. 

“ Pass  your  hand,”  I said,  “ over  the  wall ; you  cannot 
help  feeling  the  nitre.  Indeed  it  is  very  damp.  Once 
more  let  me  implore  you  to  return.  No?  Then  I must 
positively  leave  you.  But  I must  first  render  you  all  the 
little  attentions  in  my  power.” 

“ The  amontillado !”  ejaculated  my  friend,  not  yet  recov- 
ered from  his  astonishment. 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 


293 


“ True,”  I replied ; “ the  amontillado.” 

As  I said  these  words  I busied  myself  among  the  pile 
of  bones  of  which  I have  before  spoken.  Throwing  them 
aside,  I soon  uncovered  a quantity  of  building-stone  and 
mortar.  With  these  materials  and  the  aid  of  my  trowel  I 
began  vigorously  to  wall  up  the  entrance  of  the  niche. 

I had  scarcely  laid  the  first  tier  of  the  masonry  when 
I discovered  that  the  intoxication  of  Fortunato  had  in  a 
great  measure  worn  off.  The  earliest  indication  I had  of 
this  was  a low  moaning  cry  from  the  depth  of  the  recess. 
It  was  not  the  cry  of  a drunken  man.  There  was  then  a 
long  and  obstinate  silence.  I laid  the  second  tier,  and  the 
third,  and  the  fourth,  and  then  I heard  the  furious  vibra- 
tions of  the  chain.  The  noise  lasted  for  several  minutes, 
during  which,  that  I might  hearken  to  it  with  the  more 
satisfaction,  I ceased  my  labors  and  sat  down  upon  the 
bones.  When  at  last  the  clanking  subsided  I resumed 
the  trowel,  and  finished  without  interruption  the  fifth, 
the  sixth,  and  the  seventh  tier.  The  wall  was  now 
nearly  upon  a level  with  my  breast.  I again  paused, 
and  holding  the  flambeaux  over  the  mason-work,  threw 
a few  feeble  rays  upon  the  figure  within. 

A succession  of  loud  and  shrill  screams,  bursting  sud- 
denly from  the  throat  of  the  chained  form,  seemed  to 
thrust  me  violently  back.  For  a brief  moment  I hesi- 
tated, I trembled.  Unsheathing  my  rapier,  I began  to 
grope  with  it  about  the  recess;  but  the  thought  of  an 
instant  reassured  me.  I placed  my  hand  upon  the 
solid  fabric  of  the  catacombs  and  felt  satisfied.  I reap- 
proached the  wall.  I replied  to  the  yells  of  him  who 
clamored.  I re-echoed,  I aided,  I surpassed  them  in 
volume  and  in  strength.  I did  this,  and  the  clamorer 
grew  still. 

It  was  now  midnight,  and  my  task  was  drawing  to  a 
close.  I had  completed  the  eighth,  the  ninth,  and  the 
tenth  tier.  I had  finished  a portion  of  the  last  and  the 


294 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE , 


eleventh;  there  remained  but  a single  stone  to  be  fitted 
and  plastered  in.  I struggled  with  its  weight;  I placed 
it  partially  in  its  destined  position.  But  now  there  came 
from  out  the  niche  a low  laugh  that  erected  the  hairs  upon 
my  head.  It  was  succeeded  by  a sad  voice,  which  I had 
difficulty  in  recognizing  as  that  of  the  noble  Fortunato. 
The  voice  said, 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! — he ! he ! — a very  good  joke  indeed — 
an  excellent  jest!  We  will  have  many  a rich  laugh 
about  it  at  the  palazzo — he ! he ! he ! — over  our  wrine — 
he!  he!  he!” 

“ The  amontillado  !”  I said. 

“ He ! he ! he ! — he ! he ! he ! — yes,  the  amontillado. 
But  is  it  not  getting  late?  Will  not  they  be  awaiting 
us  at  the  palazzo,  the  Lady  Fortunato  and  the  rest? 
Let  us  be  gone.” 

“Yes,”  I said,  “let  us  be  gone.” 

“ For  the  love  of  God , Montresor  /” 

“Yes,”  I said,  “for  the  love  of  God.” 

But  to  these  words  I hearkened  in  vain  for  a reply.  I 
grew  impatient.  I called  aloud, 

“ Fortunato !” 

No  answer.  I called  again, 

“ Fortunato !” 

No  answer  still.  I thrust  a torch  through  the  remain- 
ing aperture  and  let  it  fall  within.  There  came  forth  in 
return  only  a jingling  of  the  bells.  My  heart  grew  sick — 
on  account  of  the  dampness  of  the  catacombs.  I hastened 
to  make  an  end  of  my  labor.  I forced  the  last  stone  into 
its  position ; I plastered  it  up.  Against  the  new  masonry 
I re-erected  the  old  rampart  of  bones.  For  the  half  of  a 

them.  In  pace  requiescat ! 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE . 


295 


To  Helen. 

Helen,  thy  beauty  is  to  me 
Like  those  Nicean  barks  of  yore, 

That  gently,  o’er  a perfumed  sea, 

The  weary,  wayworn  wanderer  bore 
To  his  own  native  shore. 

On  desperate  seas  long  wont  to  roam, 
Thy  hyacinth  hair,  thy  classic  face, 

Thy  Naiad  airs  have  brought  me  home 
To  the  glory  that  was  Greece 

And  the  grandeur  that  was  Rome. 

Lo ! in  yon  brilliant  window-niche 
How  statue-like  I see  thee  stand, 

The  agate  lamp  within  thy  hand ! 

Ah,  Psyche,  from  the  regions  which 
Are  Holy  Land ! 

Ulalume. 

The  skies  they  were  ashen  and  sober ; 

The  leaves  they  were  crisped  and  sere — 
The  leaves  they  were  withering  and  sere ; 

It  was  night  in  the  lonesome  October 
Of  my  most  immemorial  year ; 

It  was  hard  by  the  dim  lake  of  Auber, 

In  the  misty  mid-region  of  Weir — 

It  was  down  by  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber 
In  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

Here  once,  through  an  alley  Titanic 
Of  cypress,  I roamed  with  my  soul — 

Of  cypress,  with  Psyche,  my  soul. 

These  were  days  when  my  heart  was  volcanic 


296 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


As  the  scoriae  rivers  that  roll — 

As  the  lavas  that  restlessly  roll 
Their  sulphurous  currents  down  Yaanek 
In  the  ultimate  climes  of  the  pole — 

That  groan  as  they  roll  down  Mount  Yaanek 
In  the  realms  of  the  boreal  pole. 

Our  talk  had  been  serious  and  sober, 

But  our  thoughts  they  were  palsied  and  sere — 
Our  memories  were  treacherous  and  sere — 

For  we  knew  not  the  month  was  October, 

And  we  marked  not  the  night  of  the  year — 
(Ah,  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year !) 

We  noted  not  the  dim  lake  of  Auber — 

(Though  once  we  had  journeyed  down  here) — - 
Remembered  not  the  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 

Nor  the  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir. 

And  now,  as  the  night  was  senescent, 

And  star-dials  pointed  to  morn — 

As  the  star-dials  hinted  of  morn — 

At  the  end  of  our  path  a liquescent 
And  nebulous  lustre  was  born, 

Out  of  which  a miraculous  crescent 
Arose  with  a duplicate  horn — 

Astarte’s  bediamonded  crescent, 

Distinct  with  its  duplicate  horn. 

And  I said,  “ She  is  warmer  than  Dian : 

She  rolls  through  an  ether  of  sighs — 

She  revels  in  a region  of  sighs : 

She  has  seen  that  the  tears  are  not  dry  on 
These  cheeks,  where  the  worm  never  dies, 

And  has  come  past  the  stars  of  the  Lion 
To  point  us  the  path  to  the  skies — 

To  the  Lethean  peace  of  the  skies — 


EDGAR  ALLAN  POE. 


297 


Come  up,  in  despite  of  the  Lion, 

To  shine  on  us  with  her  bright  eyes — 
Come  up  through  the  lair  of  the  Lion 
With  love  in  her  luminous  eyes.” 


But  Psyche,  uplifting  her  finger, 

Said,  “ Sadly  this  star  I mistrust — 

Her  pallor  I strangely  mistrust. 

Oh,  hasten ! — oh,  let  us  not  linger ! 

Oh,  fly  ! let  us  fly ! for  we  must.” 

1 n terror  she  spoke,  letting  sink  her 
Wings  until  they  trailed  in  the  dust — 
In  agony  sobbed,  letting  sink  her 
Plumes  till  they  trailed  in  the  dust — 
Till  they  sorrowfully  trailed  in  the  dust. 


I replied,  “ This  is  nothing  but  dreaming : 

Let  us  on  by  this  tremulous  light — 

Let  us  bathe  in  this  crystalline  light ! 

Its  Sibyllic  splendor  is  beaming 
With  Hope  and  in  Beauty  to-night. 

See ! it  flickers  up  the  sky  through  the  night! 

Ah,  we  safely  may  trust  to  its  gleaming, 

And  be  sure  it  will  lead  us  aright — 

We  safely  may  trust  to  a gleaming 
That  cannot  but  guide  us  aright, 

Since  it  flickers  up  to  heaven  through  the  night.” 


Thus  I pacified  Psyche,  and  kissed  her, 

And  tempted  her  out  of  her  gloom — 

And  conquered  her  scruples  and  gloom  ; 
And  we  passed  to  the  end  of  the  vista. 

But  were  stopped  by  the  door  of  a tomb — 
By  the  door  of  a legended  tomb ; 


298 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE . 


And  I said,  “ What  is  written,  sweet  sister, 
On  the  door  of  this  legended  tomb  ?” 
She  replied,  “ Ulalume — Ulalume — 

’Tis  the  vault  of  thy  lost  Ulalume !” 


Then  my  heart  it  grew  ashen  and  sober 
As  the  leaves  that  were  crisped  and  sere — 
As  the  leaves  that  were  withering  and  sere, 
And  I cried,  “ It  was  surely  October, 

On  this  very  night  of  last  year, 

That  I journeyed — I journeyed  down  here — 
That  I brought  a dread  burden  down  here. 
On  this  night  of  all  nights  in  the  year, 

Ah,  what  demon  has  tempted  me  here  ? 

Well  I know,  now,  this  dim  lake  of  Auber — 
This  misty  mid-region  of  Weir — 

Well  I know  now,  this  dank  tarn  of  Auber, 
This  ghoul-haunted  woodland  of  Weir.” 


Acadia,  105. 

Adams,  John,  30,  66,  75. 

Adams,  John  Quincy,  67,  71. 
Adams,  Samuel,  27,  28. 

Addison,  J.,  41. 

Agassiz,  Louis,  109,  110. 

Alcott,  A.  B.,  81,  84,  89. 

Alcott,  L.  M.,  84. 

Aldrich,  T.  B.,  105,  151,  154. 
Allan,  John,  127. 

Allston,  W.,  71,  72,  155. 

Alsop,  Richard,  36. 

Ames,  Fisher,  30,  32,  37. 
Anarchiad,  The , 36. 

Anthology  Club,  71,  75. 
Arbuthnot,  J.,  47. 

Argonauts  of  ’J/,9,  147. 

Astor,  J.  J.,  43,  57. 

Atlantic  Monthly , 115, 137-139, 141. 
Autobiography  of  Franklin , 21. 

Bacon,  Francis,  9. 

Ballads,  36,  37. 

Bancroft,  George,  88, 119, 121, 128, 
126. 

Barlow,  Joel,  33-37. 

Bay  Psalm-Book , 16. 

Beckford,  W.,  48. 

Beecher,  Dr.  Lyman,  95. 

Beers,  E.  L.,  145. 

Berkeley,  Sir  W.,  13. 


I Bird,  R.  M.,  61,  135. 

I Blair,  Judge,  16. 

Boker,  G.  H.,  151,  155. 

Bowdoin  College,  102. 

! Bradford,  Andrew,  22. 
j Bradford,  William,  17. 
i Bradstreet,  Anne,  18. 

Brainard,  J.  G.  C.,  72. 

Bridgeman,  Laura,  145. 

Brook  Farm,  80-82,  84,  85,  89. 
Brooks,  M.  G.,  72. 

Brooks,  P.  S.,  94. 

Brown,  C.  B.,  40,  47,  48,  53,  133. 
Brown,  J.,  93. 

Brown  University,  16. 

Browne,  C.  F.,  159,  160. 

! Brownell,  H.  H.,  145. 

Bryan,  S.  M.,  150. 

Bryant,  W.  C.,  46,  57-60,  62,  71, 
100,  106,  109,  153,  164,  207. 
Buckminster,  J.  S.,  68,  72,  73. 

| Bull,  Ole,  104. 

Burke,  Edmund,  29. 

Burnett,  F.  H.,  138,  139. 

Burr,  Aaron,  32. 

Butler,  Samuel,  34. 

! Byron,  Lord,  45,  64,  75. 

Cable,  G.  W.,  142. 

Calhoun,  J.  C.,  65,  66,  70,  71. 

! Calvert,  G.  H.,  131. 


;yy 


300 


INDEX 


Campbell,  John,  22. 

Carey,  Alice,  146. 

Carey,  Phoebe,  146. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  76,  94,  116. 
Channing,  E.  T.,  71. 

Channing,  W.  E.,  63,  64,  65,  72, 
73,  75,  79,  81,  83,  98,  226. 
Channing,  W.  E.,  85. 

Channing,  W.  H.,  81,  84,  85. 
Chaucer,  G.,  104. 

Child,  F.  J.,  162. 

Child,  L.  M.,  28,  133,  134. 

Choate,  Rufus,  65,  69,  70,  222. 
Clay,  Henry,  65,  71. 

Clark,  J.  F.,  83,  111. 

Clemens,  S.  L.,  159,  160. 
Cleveland,  H.  R.,  109,  110. 

Clough,  A.  H.,  106. 

Coleridge,  S.  T.,  64,  71,  76,  81, 130. 
Columbia d,  The , 34,  35. 

Colleges : 

Brown  University,  16. 

College  of  New  Jersey,  16,  36. 
Columbia  College,  16. 
Dartmouth,  66,  69,  112. 
Harvard,  15,  63,  68,  71,  72,  74, 
111,  112,  113,  114,  115,  119, 
121,  122,  123,  125. 

University  of  Pennsylvania,  16, 

20. 

University  of  Virginia,  30,  127. 
William  and  Mary,  15,  16,  30. 
Williams,  58. 

Yale,  16,  49. 

Constitution,  the,  30,  31. 

Cooke,  J.  E.,  131. 

Cooke,  Pendleton,  131. 

Cooke,  R.  T.,  138. 

Cooper,  J.  F.,  46,  48-56,  91,  106, 
133,  195. 

Cranch,  C.  P.,  81,  106. 

Crawford,  F.  M.,  142,  143. 


Crisis , The,  29. 

“ Croaker  & Co.,”  56,  57. 

Curtis,  G.  W.,  39,  81,  82. 

Cuvier,  75,  110. 

Dana,  Charles  A.,  81,  82. 

Dana,  R.  H.,  71. 

Dana,  R.  H.,  Jr.,  111. 

Dante,  106,  153. 

Davis,  R.  H.,  138. 

“ Day  of  Doom,”  18. 

Defoe,  D.,  41. 

Dewey,  O.,  72,  73. 

Dial,  The,  77,  80,  81. 

Drake,  J.  R.,  46,  55,  56,  57,  62, 
116,  204. 

Draper,  Prof.,  144. 

Drayton,  M.,  10,  108. 

Dwight,  Prof.,  65. 

Dwight,  Theo.,  36. 

Dwight,  Timothy,  36,  57. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  16,  19,  36, 
39,  76. 

Eggleston,  E.,  142,  150. 

Eliot,  Bishop,  16,  81. 

Elliott,  98. 

Emerson,  R.  W.,  28,  65,  74-81,  83, 
84,  87,  89,  90,  92,  93, 109, 113, 
115,  116,  117,  127,  159,  227. 
Emerson,  Rev.  Wm.,  28,  75,  89. 
Endicott,  J.,  88,  104. 

Everett,  A.  H.,  65,  67,  68. 

Everett,  Edward,  63,  65,  68,  69,  71, 
75,  125,  220. 

Farragut,  Admiral,  145. 
Federalist,  The,  31. 

Felton,  C.  C.,  109. 
u Fern,  Fanny,”  161. 

Fielding,  H.,  47. 

Finch,  F.  M.,  144. 


INDEX. 


301 


First  literary  journal,  22. 

First  printing-press,  16. 

Fiske,  J.,  119,  126. 

Folger,  P.,  19. 

Follen,  Charles,  72,  74. 

Foote,  S.  A.,  66. 

Forrest,  E.,  135. 

Franklin,  B.,  19,  20,  21,  22,  29,  36, 
38,  39,  40,  75,  12%  126,  161, 
168. 

Franklin,  J.,  22. 

Freeman,  E.  A.,  126. 

Freneau,  P.,  33,  35,  37,  106,  181. 
Fruitlands,  84. 

Fuller,  M.,  77,  81,  83,  84,  94,  111, 
236. 

Furness,  H.  H.,  162,  163. 

Garibaldi,  98. 

Garrison,  W.  L.,  93,  94-97. 
Gladstone,  W.  E.,  31. 

Godwin,  Wm.,  47,  53. 

Good  Neivs  from  Virginia , 1 3. 

Gore,  C.,  66. 

Goethe,  64,  75,  78,  103. 

Grant,  U.  S.,  144. 

Greeley,  H.,  144,  151. 

Greene,  G.  W.,  109,  111. 

Haggard,  R.,  135. 

Hale,  E.  E.,  137. 

Halleck,  F.,  46,  55,  56,  57,  62, 116, 
206. 

Hamilton,  A.,  30,  31,  32,  126. 
Hammond,  J.,  14. 

Harper's  Magazine,  141,  162. 

Harte,  Bret,  148,  150. 

Harvard,  J.,  15. 

Hawthorne,  J.,  93. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  18,  81,  83, 
84,  87-93,  96,  98, 102, 112, 115, 
116,  127,  130,  133,  240. 


Hayes,  President,  115. 

Hayne,  P.  H.,  131,  132. 
j Hayne,  R.  Y.,  65,  70, 131. 

Hedge,  Prof.,  66. 

Henry,  Patrick,  24,  28. 

Higginson,  T.  \V.,  161. 

Hildreth,  R.,  95,  119,  125,  126. 
j Hillard,  G.  S.,  109,  110,  264. 

* Hillhouse,  J.,  72. 

| History  of  New  England,  17. 

; History  of  Plymouth,  17. 

| Holland,  J.  G.,  136. 
j Holmes,  O.  W.,  77,  101,  111-114, 
115,  145,  159,  267. 

! Homer,  59,  106,  153. 

1 Hopkins,  L,  36. 

Hopkinson,  F.,  37. 

Hopkinson,  J.,  37. 

( Howe,  J.  W.,  144,  145. 

Howells,  W.  D.,  140,  141. 
Hudibras,  34. 

Humboldt,  A.,  110. 

Humor,  American,  159. 

I Humphreys,  D.,  36. 
j Hunt,  H.,146,  147. 

Inquiry  into  the  Freedom  of  the  Will, 

19. 

Irving,  W.,  27,  39-46,  53,  57,  58, 
62,  91,  102,  120,  122,  159,  183. 

Jackson,  Dr.  C.,  76. 

James,  H.,  Jr.,  140,  141,  142. 

Jay,  J.,  30,  31. 

Jefferson,  T.,  16,  30,  31,  58,  65,  66, 
75,  126,  173. 

Jewett,  S.  O.,  138,  139. 

Jones,  J.  P.,  52. 

Judd,  Sylvester,  136. 

Keats,  J.,  75,  131. 

Kennedy,  J.  P.,  128,  134. 


302 


INDEX. 


Key,  F.  S.,  131. 

Kingsley,  C.,  106. 

Kirk,  J.  F.,  119,  126. 
Knickerbocker,  Diedrich,  41,  44. 
Knickerbocker  School,  46. 
Kossuth,  L.,  98. 

Lamb,  C.,  72. 

Landor,  W.  S.,  76. 

Lanier,  S.,  132. 

Larcom,  L.,  146. 

Lazarus,  E.,  146. 

Lea,  H.  C.,  121. 

Leah  and  Rachel,  13. 
Leather-Stocking  Tales,  50,  51. 
Leland,  C.  G.,  151,  156. 

Lewis,  “ Monk,”  48. 

Longfellow,  H.  W.,  18,  28,  88,  92, 
98,101-109,  111,114,115,116, 
118,  127,  251. 

Lounsbury,  Prof.,  51. 

Lowell,  J.  R.,  10,  34,  55,  77,  78, 
101,  106,  109,  114-118,  127, 
136,  145,  159,  162,  274. 

Macaulay,  T.,  118,  120. 
MacMaster,  J.  B.,  119,  126. 
Madison,  J.,  30,  31,  33,  35. 
McFingal,  34. 

Magnolia , The , 19. 

Marryat,  Captain,  52. 

Marshall,  J.,  30,  32. 

Marvel,  Ik  (see  Mitchell , D.  G.). 
Mather,  C.,  18,  38,  167. 

Mayo,  W.  S.,  135. 

Melville,  H.,  135. 

Merry  Mount,  17,  18,  122. 

Miller,  J.,  148,  149,  150. 

Milton,  J.,  98. 

Mitchell,  D.  G.,  160,  161. 

Monroe,  J.,  16. 

Morris,  Gouverneur,  125. 


Morris,  G.  P.,  60. 

Morton,  T.,  17. 

Motley,  J.  L.,  18, 113, 119,121-123, 

284. 

Moulton,  L.  C.,  138,  139. 

Murfree,  M.  N.,  138,  140. 

New  England  Canaan , 17. 

New  France,  25,  26. 

Newspapers,  22. 

North  American  Review , 68,  71,  72, 
75, 115, 122. 

Norton,  C.  E.,  80,  106,  115. 

Ossolt,  M.,  83. 

Otis,  J.,  27,  28. 

Overland  Monthly , 148. 

Paine,  T.,  28,  29,  30. 

Palfrey,  J.  G.,  119,  125. 

Parker,  T.,  81,  84,  85,  161. 
Parkman,  F.,  119,  123-125. 
Parsons,  T.  W.,  104,  109,  110,  111. 
Parton,  J.,  161. 

Paulding,  J.  K.,  41,  46,  47. 

Pavne,  J.  H.,  61. 

Peirce,  B.,  111. 

Percival,  J.  G.,  72. 

Phelps,  E.  S.,  138,  139. 

Phillips,  W.,  93,  94, 161. 

Piatt,  J.  J.,  140,  150. 

Pierce,  F.,  88,  89,  90. 

Pierpont,  J.,  72. 

Pike,  A.,  131,  145. 

Pinkney,  E.  C.,  131. 

Pleiades  of  Connecticut,  36. 

Poe,  E.  A.,  45,  48,  116,  127-131, 
133,  159,  287. 

Polk,  President,  121. 

“ Poor  Richard,”  21. 

Pope,  A.,  38,  58,  64. 


INDEX. 


303 


Pre-Raphaelites,  155. 

Prescott,  W.  H.,  119, 120, 122,  12' 
Preston,  M.,  146. 

Quincy,  J.,  27,  28. 

Randall,  J.  R.,  144. 

Read,  T.  B.,  144,  151,  155. 

Revere,  Paul,  28,  104. 

Richardson,  S.,  47. 

Richter,  J.  P.,  103. 

Ripley,  G.,  64,  81,  82,  83,  84,  11C 
Root,  G.  F.,  145. 

Russell,  C.,  52. 

Sands,  R.  C.,  58. 

Sandys,  G.,  13. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  41,  45,  48, 49, 5 
53,  55,  64,  75,  95. 

Scribners  Monthly , 137. 

Sedgwick,  C.  M.,  133,  134. 
Shakespeare,  W.,  9,  10,  38,  78. 
Shelley,  P.  B.,  47,  48,  64,  75,  130. 
Sheridan,  P.,  144. 

Sherman,  W.  T.,  144. 

Sigourney,  L.  H.,  72. 

Simms,  W.  G.,  132,  134. 

Simple  Cobbler  of  Aggawam,  18. 
Sketch-Book , The, , 42,  44,  45,  48,  59, 
102. 

Smith,  E.,  36. 

Smith,  J.,  14. 

Smith,  Seba,  159. 

Smith,  S.  F.,  111. 

Smollett,  T.,  47. 

Southern  Literary  Messenger,  128. 
Southey,  R.,  72,  81. 

Sparks,  J.,  119,  125. 

Spencer,  H.,  126. 

Spofford,  H.  E.  P.,  138,  139. 
Sprague,  C.,  72. 


I Spy , The , 50,  59. 
t.  I Standish,  M.,  12,  17. 

Stanley,  A.  P.,  122. 
j Stedman,  E.  C.,  151.  154,  162. 

; Stephen,  L.,  130. 

| Stephens,  A.,  144. 

Sterne,  L.,  41,  47. 

Stoddard,  R.  H.,  151,  153,  154. 
Stone,  J.  A.,  61. 

Story,  Jos.,  30,  33,  179. 

Story,  W.  W.,  33. 

Stowe,  C.  E.,  95. 

'■  Stowe,  H.  B.,  93,  95,  96. 

Sumner,  C.,  93,  98,  109,  110. 
Sumner,  H.,  94. 

Swift,  J.,  41. 

Taylor,  B.,  106,  150-153. 

1,  I Taylor-Hansen,  M.,  153. 

| Thackeray,  W.  M.,  134. 

“ Thanatopsis,”  57,  58,  59,  60. 
Thaxter,  C.,  146. 

1 Thoreau,  H.  D.,  83,  84,  85,  86,  87, 
89,  90,  238. 

Ticknor,  G.,  102,  120. 

Timrod,  H.,  131. 

! Trowbridge,  J.  T.,  137. 

True  Relation  of  Virginia , 14. 
Trumbull,  J.,  33,  34,  35,  36. 
Twain,  Mark  (see  Clemens , S.  L.)< 
Tyler,  M.  C.,  162. 

Tylor,  Royall,  61. 

Tyndall,  J.,  76. 

Unde  Tom7s  Cabin , 95,  133. 

Verne,  J.,  130. 

Verplanck,  G.  C.,  58. 

Waddel,  J.,  33,  174. 

Walpole,  H.,  48. 

Ward,  Artemus  (see  Browne , C.  F.\ , 


304 


INDEX . 


Ward,  N.,  18. 

Ware,  H.,  74. 

Ware,  H.,  Jr.,  74,  75. 

Ware,  W.,  72,  74. 

Warner,  C.  D.,  162. 

Warren,  Gen.,  81. 

Washington,  G.,  29,  30,  40,  44,  102, 
125. 

Webster,  D.,  32,  62,  65,  66-69,  70, 
71,  94,  98,  110,  215. 

Whipple,  E.  P.,  117,  118. 
Whitaker,  A.,  13. 

White,  M.,  115. 

White,  R.  G.,  162,  163. 

Whitman,  Walt.,  156,  159. 
Whitney,  A,  D.  T.,  138. 

Whittier,  J.  G.,  18,65,  93,  96-100, 


104,  107,  109,  114,  115,  116, 
144,  146,  248. 

Wigglesworth,  M.,  18. 

Wilde,  R.  H.,  131. 

Williams,  R.,  15. 

Willis,  N.  P.,  46,  60,  161. 

Willson,  F.,  145. 

Wilson,  Henry,  144. 

Winthrop,  J.,  17. 

Wirt,  W.,  28,  32,  33,  69,  176. 
Woodworth,  S.,  60. 

Woolson,  C.  F.,  138. 

Worcester,  J.  E.,  88. 

Wordsworth,  W.,  64,  75,  76. 

Zenobia,  83. 


THE  END. 


II 


MODEL  TEXT-BOOKS. 


Ccesar's  Commentaries, 

First  Six  Books  of  ASneid, 

Virgil's  </Eneid, 

Virgil's  Eclogues  and  Georgies, 
Cicero's  Select  Orations, 
Horace's  Odes,  Satires,  and  Epistles , 
Sallust's  Catiline  et  Jugurtha, 


Cicero  De  Senectute,  et  de  Amicitia, 
Cornelius  Nepos, 


CHASE  & STUARTS  CLASSICAL  SERIES . 


COMPRISING 


First  Year  in  Latin 


A Latin  Grammar 


A Latin  Reader 


Cicero's  Select  Letters,  Cicero  de  Offciis, 

Cicero's  Tusculan  Disputations, 


Cicero  de  Oratore 
Terence, 
Ovid, 


Juvenal, 

Tacitus, 

Pliny,  Livy . 


A 

SERIES  OF  TEXT-BOOKS 

ON  THE 

ENGLISH  LANGUAGE. 

By  JOHN  S.  HART,  LL.D., 

Late  Pt'ofessor  of  Rhetoric  and  of  the  English  Language  in  the 
College  of  New  Jersey. 

The  Series  comprises  the  following  volumes — via. : 

Language  Lessons  for  Beginners, 

Elementary  English  Grammar, 

English  Grammar  and  Analysis , 

First  Lessons  in  Composition, 

Composition  and  Rhetoric. 

Hart's  Composition  and  Rhetoric  is  more  generally  in  use 
throughout  the  country  than  any  other  work  on  the  subject. 

Prof.  Moses  Coit  Tyler  says  of  it : 

“ In  the  transition  from  grammar  to  what  may  be  called  the 
| mechanics  of  literary  workmanship,  we  are  obliged  to  insist  upon 
a particular  text-book — Hart’s  ‘ Composition  and  Rhetoric’ — sim- 
ply because  that  book  is  the  only  one  as  yet  in  the  market 
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to  emphasize.  ” 

Its  Practical  Character  is  one  of  its  most  valuable  features. 
Rhetoric  is  an  art  as  well  as  a science,  and  no  text-book  for  the 
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Its  Adaptability  to  all  grades  of  schools  is  another  feature 
ctf  value.  It  is  equally  in  place  in  the  graded  school,  the  acad- 
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peculiarly  meritorious,  no  book  could  possibly  attain  the  wide- 
spread popularity  which  has  been  accorded  to  this  manual. 

L J 2 


Easy  Lessons  in  Natural  Philosophy. 

For  children.  By  Edwin  J.  Houston,  A.  M. 

Intermediate  Lessons  in  Natural  Philosophy. 

By  Edwin  J.  Houston,  A.  M. 

Elements  of  Natural  Philosophy. 

For  Schools  and  Academies.  By  Edwin  J.  Houston,  A.  M. 

Elements  of  Physical  Geography.  New  Edition. 
By  Edwin  J.  Houston,  A.  M. 

Houston’s  New  Physical  Geography  is  the  realization  of  what  a 
text-book  on  this  subject  .should  be.  It  is  a book  that  will 
gladden  the  hearts  of  teachers  and  pupils.  It  is  concise,  com- 
prehensive, up  to  the  times,  and  in  every  respect  an  ideal  text-book. 

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most  books  of  its  class,  of  crowding  both  text  and  maps  with  a 
mass  of  technical  detail  which  simply  confuse  and  bewilder 
the  pupil.  As  a working  text-book  for  class-room  use,  Houston’s  ( 
New  Physical  Geography  stands  to-day  at  the  head  of  the  list  of 
similar  works,  and  is  practically  without  a peer. 

Christian  Ethics ; or,  The  Science  of  the  Life  of 
Human  Duty. 

A New  Text-Book  on  Moral  Science.  By  Rev.  D.  S.  Gregory, 

D.  D.,  Late  President  of  Lake  Forest  University,  Illinois. 

Practical  Logic ; or,  The  Art  of  Thinking. 

By  Rev.  D.  S.  Gregory,  D.  D. 

Groesbeck’s  Practical  Book-Keeping  Series. 

By  Prof.  John  Groesbeck,  Late  Prin.  of  the  Crittenden  Com- 
mercial College.  In  Two  Volumes — viz. : 

College  Edition,  for  Commercial  Schools,  Colleges,  etc. 
School  Edition,  for  Schools  and  Academies. 

An  Elementary  Algebra. 

A Text-Book  for  Schools  and  Academies.  By  Joseph  W.  Wil- 
son, A.  M.,  Late  Professor  of  Mathematics  in  the  Philadelphia  I 
Central  High  School. 

The  Crittenden  Commercial  Arithmetic  and 
Business  Manual. 

Designed  for  the  use  of  Teachers,  Business  Men,  Academies,  j 
High  Schools,  and  Commercial  Colleges.  By  Professor  John 
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A Manual  of  Elocution  and  Reading. 

Founded  on  Philosophy  of  the  Human  Voice.  By  Edward 
Brooks,  Ph.D.,  Late  Prin.  of  State  Normal  School,  Millers- 
ville,  Pa. 


The  Government  of  the  People  of  the  United 
United  States. 

By  Francis  Newton  Thorpe,  Professor  of  Constitutional  His- 
tory in  the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

“ If  we  were  asked  to  name  one  book  that  was  a fitting  repre- 
sentative of  the  modern  American  text-book,  we  should  name 
Thorpe’s  Civics.” 

American  Literature. 

A Text-Book  for  High  Schools,  Academies,  Normal  Schools, 
Colleges,  etc.  By  A.  H.  Smyth,  Prof,  of  Literature,  Central  High 
School,  Philadelphia. 

The  Normal  English  Grammar. 

By  Geo.  L.  Maris,  A.  M.,  Principal  of  Friends’  Central  High 
School,  Philadelphia. 

Intended  for  use  in  Normal  Schools,  High  Schools,  Acad- 
emies, and  the  higher  grade  of  schools  generally.  It  is  not  a 
book  for  pupils  beginning  the  study  of  English  grammar. 

The  Model  Definer. 

A Book  for  Beginners,  containing  Definitions,  Etymology,  and 
Sentences  as  Models,  exhibiting  the  correct  use  of  Words.  By 
A.  C.  Webb. 

The  Model  Etymology. 

Containing  Definitions,  Etymology,  Latin  Derivatives,  Sen- 
tences as  Models,  and  Analysis.  With  a Key  containing  the 
Analysis  of  every  word  which  could  present  any  difficulties  to 
the  learner.  By  A.  C.  Webb. 

A Manual  of  Etymology. 

Containing  Definitions,  Etymology,  Latin  Derivatives,  Greek 
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containing  the  Analysis  of  every  word  which  could  present  any 
difficulties  to  the  learner.  By  A.  C.  Webb. 

First  Lessons  in  Physiology  and  Hygiene. 

With  special  reference  to  the  Effects  of  Alcohol,  Tobacco,  etc. 
By  Charles  K.  Mills,  M.  D. 

First  Lessons  in  Natural  Philosophy. 

For  Beginners.  By  Joseph  C.  Martindale,  M.  D. 

A Hand-Book  of  Literature,  1 English 
A Short  Course  in  Literature,  j American. 

By  E.  J.  Trimble,  Late  Professor  of  Literature,  State  Normal 
School,  West  Chester,  Pa. 

Short  Studies  in  Literature,  English  and  American. 

Bv  A.  P.  South  wick,  A.  M. 

4 


A Hand-Book  of  Mythology. 

By  S.  A.  Edwards,  Teacher  of  Mythology  fn  the  Girls’  Normal 
School,  Philadelphia. 

3000  Practice  Words. 

By  J.  Willis  Westlake,  A.  M.,  Late  Professor  in  State  Normal 
School,  Millersville,  Pa.  Contains  lists  of  Familiar  Words  often 
Misspelled,  Difficult  Words,  Homophonous  Words,  Words  often 
Confounded,  Rules  for  Spelling,  etc. 

In  the  School-Room ; 

Or,  Chapters  in  the  Philosophy  of  Education.  Gives 
the  experience  of  nearly  forty  years  spent  in  school-room  work. 
By  John  S.  Hart,  LL.D. 

Our  Bodies. 

By  Charles  K.  Mills,  M.  D.,  and  A.  H.  Leuf,  M.  D.  A series 
of  five  charts  for  teaching  Anatomy,  Physiology,  and  Hygiene, 
and  showing  the  Effects  of  Alcohol  on  the  Human  Body. 

The  Model  Pocket-Register  and  Grade-Book. 

A Roll-Book,  Record,  and  Grade-Book  combined.  Adapted  to 
all  grades  of  Classes,  whether  in  College,  Academy,  Seminary, 
High  or  Primary  School. 

The  Model  School  Diary. 

Designed  as  an  aid  in  securing  the  co-operation  of  parents.  It 
consists  of  a Record  of  the  Attendance,  Deportment,  Recita- 
tions, etc.,  of  the  Scholar  for  every  day.  At  the  close  of  the 
week  it  is  to  be  sent  to  the  parent  or  guardian  for  examination 
and  signature. 

The  Model.  Monthly  Report. 

Similar  to  the  Model  School  Diary,  excepting  that  it  is  intended 
for  a Monthly  instead  of  a Weekly  report  of  the  Attendance, 
Recitations,  etc.  of  the  pupil. 

The  Model  Roll-Book,  No.  1. 

The  Model  Roll-Book,  No.  2. 

The  Model  Roll-Book,  No.  1,  is  so  ruled  as  to  show  at  a 
glance  the  record  of  a class  for  three  months,  allowing  five 
weeks  to  each  month,  with  spacing  for  weekly,  monthly,  and  , 
quarterly  summary,  and  a blank  space  for  remarks  at  the  end  ' 
of  the  quarter. 

The  Model  Roll-Book,  No.  2,  is  arranged  on  the  same 
general  plan,  as  regards  spacing,  etc.,  excepting  that  each  page 
is  arranged  for  a month  of  five  weeks ; hut,  in  addition,  the 
names  of  the  studies  generally  pursued  in  schools  are  printed 
immediately  following  the  name  of  the  pupil,  making  it  more 

5 


I 


convenient  when  it  is  desirable  to  have  a record  of  all  the 
studies  pursued  by  a pupil  brought  together  in  one  place. 

Specimen  Sheets  sent  by  Mail  on  Application. 

Manuals  for  Teachers. 

A Series  of  Hand-Books  comprising  five  volumes — viz : 

1.  On  the  Cultivation  of  the  Senses . 

2.  On  the  Cultivation  of  the  Memory. 

3 . On  the  Use  of  Words . 

4 . On  Discipline . 

5.  On  Class  Teaching . 


We  shall  be  gratified  to  have  teachers  correspond  with  us.  We  offer 
some  of  the  best  of  Modern  Text-Boolcs,  and  shall  be  glad  at  any  time 
to  make  liberal  arrangements  for  their  introduction,  or  to  exchange  for  \ 
others  that  do  not  give  satisfaction.  Please  address 

Eldredge  & Brother, 

17  North  Seventh  Street, 

PHILADELPHIA. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


3 0112  003297451 


